


The Luxury of Mercy

by hallowedhuntress



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: A story told in 2 parts, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Carlisle Cullen is a Gray Character, Character Death, Dark, Disturbing Themes, Drama, Edward Cullen Bashing, I try to keep all characters in character, Lawful Neutral Volturi, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other, POV First Person, Plot Twists, Rated For Violence, Spoilers are not tagged, Suicide Attempt, Suspense, but it's pretty minor, canon attempted suicide, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-10-10 06:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 131,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallowedhuntress/pseuds/hallowedhuntress
Summary: When Bella goes to Volterra she learns the Cullens have been keeping big secrets. She also learns the real reasons the Volturi don't allow "vegetarianism." Then she is faced with a terrible choice. "Change or Die" has new meaning when you know all the variables. Diverges from canon at the end of New Moon. Slight AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been on FFnet for a while, but I wanted to crosspost it here for all the users who prefer AO3. I'm starting to prefer it myself in some ways. Since all of Part 1 is already written, updates should be quite regular until then. Also, Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.

**PART ONE: THE LUXURY OF MERCY**

PRELUDE

 It is alarming how quickly one's convictions can change. It seemed like only yesterday I was trying to  _stop_  this sort of thing from happening. And now I was here, preparing to do something ghastly.

As I watched, a circle of pale figures in black robes drifted together over the stone floor in perfect, practiced unison. In their hard, inhuman fingers, they clutched, in the center of their dark mass, a lone man. A man who was screaming and bucking to no avail against their merciless white hands.

The man didn't scream without purpose. He'd already seen enough to know what cruel fate awaited him now. Enough to know that his time was limited. That, unless he could escape somehow—which was impossible given the strength of his captors—that he would die.

A meal. A murder. A sacrifice.

I trembled, my hands—my weapons—quaking at my sides as the dark figures brought the man closer. I didn't want to do this. This man didn't deserve to die. At least, not now. And not like this.

The black circle halted, just inches away from me.

I hesitated.

"You agreed to this, did you not, Isabella?" A velvety voice urged me from behind.

_That was true._ I had agreed. But only because the alternatives were so much worse. If this man did not die, millions of others would. In the past few days, that much had been made crystal clear.

But I still did not like it.

I would give anything to trade places with him. To be the one sacrificed for the greater good, rather than the one who had to live with making that monstrous decision.

I would have welcomed my death, in those circumstances. It would be selfish not to. After all, what was my life—one, tiny, insignificant life—in the larger scheme of things?

It was easy to rationalize that way on  _my_  behalf. But it was much harder when the one who had to die was someone else.

Especially when that someone, judging by their shrieks and sobs as I sauntered closer, very much wanted to live.

"Silence you pathetic fool!" one of the robed figures hissed at the man. "You should be honored to be chosen for this!"

The man immediately clammed up, fearing retribution from the cruel creatures restraining him. Though he did not looked honored in the slightest. His deep brown eyes reflected the horror in my red ones.

It took everything I had not to scream and run the other way.

The man remained silent as I approached. Though his eyes kept flickering around, looking for a door—an escape. And his whole body, drenched with nervous sweat, shook violently.

When I reached him, I too was quivering. I placed my shaking palms gently against the slick sides of his head. And though I knew it was hardly any consolation, I breathed an apology in his ear.

"I'm sorry."

I didn't give him any time to process what my words meant. In a minute attempt to be merciful, my whisper was followed by a swift movement.

A garbled shriek.

A flash of red.

And the sound of tearing skin.

* * *

 CHAPTER ONE: VOLTERRA

…

_What's the worst that can happen?_

That was definitely the wrong question to ask. I was having a hard time breathing right.

_Okay,_ I thought again,  _what's the worst I can live through?_

_-_ Bella, New Moon, Chapter 3

…

_Three days earlier._

I slammed into Edward,  _hard_. The sheer force of it would have hurled me into the ground if Edward's arms hadn't automatically caught me and held me up. And even with his support, the collision knocked the breath out of me, and threw my head back painfully.

But none of that mattered. All that mattered was getting Edward out of the light. If he didn't move soon…

"Amazing," Edward breathed, his exquisite voice full of wonder. "Carlisle was right."

"Edward," I tried to gasp. But I was out of breath from running for so long. And my voice had no sound.

I tried again. "Edward, you've got to get back to the shadows!" I managed to huff out. "You have to move!"

When Edward made no indication that he had heard me, I shoved him as hard as I could, pushing him back toward the darkness of the alley he had just emerged from. But of course, Edward's rocky frame was unyielding. And we went nowhere.

I tried again, and again, to force us out of the sunlight blaring down on us—the sunlight that was currently refracting in thousands of tiny points from Edward's skin. But Edward didn't seem to grasp the urgency of the situation. Instead he seemed merely bemused by my repeated attempts to push him around—futile as they were.

As I wrestled with him, one of his hands reached up and brushed softly against my cheek. And his deep obsidian eyes drank in my face hungrily, like a starving man might devour a steak.

I wasn't sure why he was looking at me that way—like he had missed me—when he had made it very clear those seven months ago when I had last seen him that he wanted nothing more to do with me. But when our eyes locked, I suddenly felt very strange.

Intellectually, I knew that we were both still in mortal danger. But in that instant, it was hard to remember that. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, the blood pulsing hot and fast through my veins. But that seemed like a distant concern all of a sudden. As my breath came in ragged spurts, my lungs filled deep with the sweet scent that came off of Edward's skin. And very abruptly, I felt  _whole_  for the first time in months.

I wasn't healed—there was no scar tissue. Instead, it was like the huge, festering hole Edward's absence had carved in my chest had simply never existed.

Without thinking, I took a deep breath, to inhale more of Edward's intoxicating scent. And I savored the feeling of being complete.

"I can't believe how quick it was. I didn't feel a thing—they're very good," Edward praised, closing his eyes again and pressing his lips against my hair. I shuddered with pleasure at his touch— _oh how I had missed this_...

Though it didn't last. Almost as soon Edward's mouth touched my head, he recoiled, as though burned.

I felt a spasm of pain ripple through me at the rejection, until I realized why. Edward's black eyes—the ones that told me he was well and truly famished—were staring at my neck with the strangest combination of longing and horror.

"You smell just exactly the same as always," he explained, his throat sounding very dry all of a sudden.

I swallowed thickly, understanding instantly what he meant.

Edward backed away a little then—something I despised, but allowed, given the circumstances. With how potently my blood attracted him, I understood it wasn't strictly safe to be near him while he was so thirsty.

Actually, if I was being honest, it wasn't really very safe to be around him at all, fed or not. It took nearly all of his willpower to refuse the call of my blood, even when his hunger was at its most sated. I was his favorite meal. A cheeseburger before a man on a diet. His own personal brand of heroin.

Or so he said. When we'd been together before, he'd made it seem so easy to resist his natural instincts. We'd kissed many times, quite passionately. And during all of those times I'd never felt even remotely in danger.

But now was a different story.

I felt a cold sweat break out across the back of my neck as I looked up into Edward's fathomless, black eyes. Eyes that practically  _radiated_  hunger. And my stomach dropped as I noticed his fists clenching at his sides. The veins in his hands pulled taut over his knuckles with the strain it took to hold himself back. To stop himself from doing what every fiber in his being was screaming at him to do.

To pounce. To bite. To drink. To  _kill_.

Slowly, I inched back. And repressed the urge to shudder.

This shocked me, because I'd never been truly afraid of Edward before, all his attempts to instill a "healthy fear" in me, notwithstanding. For some reason, even when he was ripping fully grown trees out of the ground, or running so fast he was only a blur in my vision, it simply had never occurred to me to be frightened. Surely Edward wouldn't  _really_  hurt me, right? Wasn't he too good of a person to do that?

That was what I had always maintained. But now I wasn't so sure.

I frowned.

"So maybe Carlisle was wrong," Edward spoke to himself. "Maybe this  _is_  hell. But I don't care. I'll take it."

_Hell?_  I thought, stupefied by Edward's strange words.  _Wait_ …

I shook my head fervently and closed the gap I'd placed between us in my fear. Edward's life was more important than mine, after all.

"I'm not dead," I declared. Then I knocked on his chest. "And neither are you!"

_At least, not at the moment._

My eyes flickered around our surroundings frantically, looking for the Volturi. I was expecting them to emerge from the shadows and dismember us both any second now. With Edward's face and upper chest gleaming in the noonday sun, it was a miracle they hadn't made their move already.

"But we have to move!" I urged, reaching up to give Edward another hearty shove. A shove that, like all those before it, did nothing. I could have been shoving the alley wall, for all that we moved. "They can't be far away!"

Edward's brow furrowed in confusion. "What was that?" he asked politely, like he hadn't heard me correctly.

Which of course was absolute bullshit. Edward's hearing was impeccable.

"We're not dead! Not yet!" I repeated desperately. "But we have to get out of here before the Volturi—"

Comprehension finally flickered on Edward's face. And before I could even finish my sentence, he suddenly yanked me with him back into the shadows.

The cool, musty air stung my eyes as Edward spun me effortlessly around. When we stopped moving, my back was flush against the brick wall, and his back was to me as he faced into the alley. I blinked to clear stinging tears, and saw Edward had spread his arms wide, protectively in front of me.

After a tense moment of silence, I peeked under Edward's arms to see two dark shapes detach themselves from the surrounding darkness. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of their faces. But both shapes were almost entirely concealed within charcoal black cloaks that reached to the ground and undulated in the wind.

"Greetings, gentlemen," Edward said pleasantly to the approaching strangers. At least, his voice was pleasant on the surface. It wasn't hard to tell, having known him for so long, that he was seething underneath his polite façade.

"I don't think I'll be requiring your services today," Edward continued. "I would appreciate it very much, however, if you would send my thanks to your masters. It appears they were right to deny my request."

Edward ever so slightly tilted his head over his shoulder, indicating me. And my stomach clenched as I realized what Edward was saying. That he was only glad to be alive because I still was. And that if Alice's prediction had been correct, he would still be dead-set on self-termination.

My hands hardened into fists at my sides.

_Why was Edward acting like this? What did I matter to him anyway?_

I'd been trying to figure it out ever since Alice had seen Edward decide to come here. Trying to figure out Edward's motivations. But I was still at a loss. None of it made any sense.

"Shall we take this conversation to a more appropriate venue?" asked a smooth voice coming from the taller of the cloaked shapes.

"I don't believe that will be necessary." Edward's voice was harder now, but still cordial. "I know your instructions, Felix. I haven't broken any rules."

_Just barely,_  I thought.  _Had I been even seconds late... well, that would have been a different story._

"Felix merely meant to point out the proximity of the sun," the other, shorter shadow said in a soothing tone. "Let us seek better cover."

"I'll be right behind you," Edward said dryly, before turning to me. "Bella, why don't you go back to the square and enjoy the festival?"

"No, bring the girl," the tall shadow, who seemed to be named Felix, commanded.

Abruptly, all pretense of civility disappeared from Edward's voice. "I don't think so," he practically snarled.

And his voice wasn't all that changed. I watched, stunned and scared as Edward's weight shifted infinitesimally in front of me.

He was preparing to fight.

"No." I mouthed the word.

"Shh," he murmured in my direction, continuing to adjust his stance, until he was crouched in a manner reminiscent of a tiger, ready to spring.

Felix mirrored Edward's movements. And now that my eyes were finally adjusting to the deep shade, I could see that Felix was not only very tall, but quite broad as well in a thick, muscular sort of way. He reminded me instantly of Emmett. And I felt a jolt of fear at the thought of him going head-to-head with Edward.

I'd watched Edward and Emmett arm wrestle before. Emmet had won every time, hands down. And I had a hard time imagining that the outcome now would be very different. Muscles like Felix's combined with supernatural strength were virtually unconquerable.

But to my great relief, Felix's shorter, shadowy companion, wasn't having any of it.

"Felix," he cautioned sternly. "Not here."

Felix grumbled irritably, like he'd been looking forward to a fight, but obeyed his companion's orders anyway. His enormous hulking frame straightened up and took a few steps back.

Once it was clear Felix no longer planned to fight, his companion turned to Edward. "Aro would simply like to speak with you again, if you have decided not to force our hand after all," he explained calmly, hoping to diffuse the situation before things got out of hand.

"Certainly," Edward agreed, slowly straightening his stance as well. "But the girl goes free," he insisted, indicating me.

"I'm afraid that is not possible," the shorter, polite shadow said regretfully. "We do have rules to obey."

My heart sank as I remembered Alice's words about the Volturi's rules on the way here.  _There's really only one core restriction... We just have to keep our existence a secret._

I gulped, and suddenly I understood Edward's apprehension. Edward may not have broken any rules  _today_ , but he had in the past. He'd told me what he was. And that, in the Volturi's eyes was unacceptable.

"Then  _I'm_  afraid that I'll be unable to accept Aro's invitation, Demetri," Edward said firmly.

"That's just fine," Felix responded with a smirk, cracking his knuckles.

"Aro will be disappointed." Demetri sighed.

"I'm sure he'll survive the letdown," Edward replied tersely, sinking back into his tiger-like crouch.

Felix and Demetri took that as their signal. As if on cue they stole closer toward the mouth of the alley, spreading out slightly so they could come at Edward from both sides. They meant to force him deeper into the alley, I realized, to avoid a scene. No reflected light from the sunny plaza found access to their skin; they were safe inside their cloaks.

At least, as long as they didn't stray too far from their current positions.

Edward, despite being pressed between the shade and two very formidable vampires, didn't move an inch. He was dooming himself by protecting me.

I was about to let him know it wasn't worth it. That I would rather die first than watch him be ripped to pieces before I became someone's dinner.

But before I could even part my lips to speak, abruptly Edward's head whipped around, toward the darkness of the winding alley. And Demetri's and Felix's did the same, at the same time. I surmised they all must be responding to some sound or movement too subtle for my senses.

"Let's behave ourselves, shall we?" a lilting voice suggested. "There are ladies present."

I turned around just in time to see Alice tripping lightly over to Edward's side, her stance casual. There was no hint of any underlying tension in her body, which shocked me. Next to everyone else she looked so tiny, so fragile. If anyone had a right to be scared in this tense atmosphere, it was her.

Yet, she wasn't frightened in the slightest. And Demetri and Felix both straightened up immediately when they saw her, I guessed treating her as an equal threat to Edward. Their cloaks swirled slightly at the movement. And both their faces soured.

Apparently, the Volturi didn't like even numbers.

Or at least, that was my initial impression. But after a moment, the sour expression on Felix's face melted into one of fond recognition—something that I hadn't been expecting. And suddenly I wasn't sure what was going on.

"Alice," Felix purred, his tone sickly sweet. "How nice of you to finally join us."

"Indeed, it has been too long," Demetri agreed, with less sarcasm.

_Too long?_ Unless I was horribly mistaken, this was Alice's first time meeting any of the Volturi in person.  _So how could it have been too long?_

I looked to Edward, figuring he must understand what the vampires meant. It was hard for him not to, being able to see into everyone's head after all. But too my surprise, he didn't seem to know what to make of Felix and Demetri's remarks either. And his eyes narrowed suspiciously in their direction.

Alice didn't seem to think it was odd that these two strangers already knew her name. But she did frown at the pair. "We're not alone," she reminded them, pointing behind her.

Demetri glanced over his shoulder, where Alice was indicating. And I too fixed my eyes on that spot.

A few yards into the square, a little Italian family, with young girls in crimson dresses, was watching us. The mother was speaking urgently to her husband, her eyes fixed apprehensively on the five of us. She looked away when Demetri met her gaze. But her husband wasn't going to leave us alone that easily. He walked a few steps farther into the plaza, and tapped one of the red-blazered security guards milling about on the shoulder.

Demetri shook his head, almost ruefully. "Please, Edward, let's be reasonable."

"Yes, let's," Edward agreed. "And we'll leave quietly now, with no one the wiser."

Demetri sighed in frustration. That was clearly not what he'd had in mind. "At least let us discuss this more privately!"

Six men in red blazers now joined the family as they watched us with anxious expressions. I was very conscious of Edward's protective stance in front of me—sure that this was what had caused their alarm. I could understand how that looked bad.

Well, to be perfectly frank it  _was_  bad. I knew things I shouldn't, according to the Volturi, and would almost certainly die because of it. But there was no reason I had to take down these innocent men with me.

I wanted to scream at them to run. But I knew screaming anything would only make them more curious, more insistent on "helping". And the more they investigated this scenario, the more likely they were to meet an abrupt, bloody end.

Alice, seeing the gathering crowd, turned to look at her brother, her eyes pleading. "Edward…"

Edward's teeth came together audibly. "No."

Felix, standing just inches away from Edward, smiled, a cruel, feral smile. His blinding white, perfectly straight teeth glistened with venom. And I knew at once what he planned to do.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't watch.

But before anything could happen, a high, reedy voice behind us interjected.

"Enough."

Gradually, I opened my eyes, and briefly checked to make sure Edward still had his head—he did, thank God. Then I peeked under Edward's other arm to see a small, dark shape coming toward us. By the way the edges of the silhouette billowed, I knew it would be another one of them—another Volturi.

I fought the urge to scream.  _Another one?_

And my apprehension only increased when I saw how everyone was reacting to the arrival of this newcomer. Felix and Demetri relaxed immediately, stepping back from their offensive positions to blend in again with the shadows of the overhanding walls. Alice folded her arms across her chest, her expression impassive. And Edward dropped his arms and relaxed his position as well—but in defeat.

Whoever this was, they were obviously bad news.

But when the apparently formidable enemy finally melted out of the thickest shadows into view, I was confused. The newcomer was at least as tiny as Alice, perhaps even moreso. And they couldn't have been older than thirteen when they were bitten.

I tried examining them more closely, to make sure I hadn't missed anything. At first I thought they were a young boy. Their pale hair was cropped very short. And the body under their cloak—which was an inkier black than the others—was slim and androgynous. But after a moment I decided their face was too pretty for a boy. With wide eyes, and full lips, they had a face that would make a Botticelli angel look like a gargoyle. Even allowing for the dark red irises.

So I decided this new person must be female—the first female Volturi member I'd encountered so far. But that didn't explain everyone's reactions. Girl or boy, this new, diminutive vampire hardly presented a threat.

"Jane," Edward sighed in recognition and resignation.

The girl—Jane—glanced briefly at Edward, before her wide eyes honed in raptly on Alice. There was recognition in them too. And at once, both Edward and I stiffened with misgiving.

"Alice." There was note of surprise in her childish voice, so slight, I almost missed it. "We weren't expecting you. Are you with this one?"

Jane gave Edward a steely look.

Edward flinched. Though I didn't understand why. And Jane's lips turned up at the corners in amusement.

Alice winced slightly at the exchange, but kept a cheery smile firmly plastered on her face. "For the time being," she said simply.

"Then follow me," Jane said, her childish voice monotone.

She turned her back on us then, and drifted silently into the dark, clearly expecting us to follow. Felix gestured for us to go first, smirking. And to my utter astonishment, Alice walked after the little Jane at once.

Edward was not quite as trusting. He hesitated for a moment, uncertainty furrowing his perfect, rectangular brows. Then, without warning, he secured an arm around my waist and pulled me along beside his sister.

I was shocked. I had expected more of an argument—a fight. Even outnumbered as we now were, Jane hardly counted as a viable enemy. If Edward and Alice fought smart, we could still win...

I looked up at Edward with frantic questions in my eyes as he pulled me along into the alley. He must have some sensible explanation. But rather than sharing it, he just angled his head toward the two cloaked figures trailing silently behind us, before giving it a firm shake.

Automatically I understood. Whatever Edward knew that I didn't could hardly be shared in present company.

"Well, Alice," Edward said conversationally as we walked. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you here."

"It was my mistake," Alice answered in the same tone. "It was my job to set it right."

"What happened?" Edward's voice was polite, as if he were barely interested. I imagined this was due to the listening ears behind us. His face told me he was desperately intrigued.

"It's a long story." Alice's eyes flickered toward me and away. "In summary, she did jump off a cliff, but she wasn't trying to kill herself. Bella's all about the extreme sports these days."

I flushed with embarrassment and turned my eyes straight ahead, looking down the alley after the dark shadow I could no longer see. I could imagine what Edward was hearing in Alice's thoughts now. Near-drownings, stalking vampires, werewolf-friends…

A lot had happened while we were apart. Most of it unpleasant.

And all of my actions completely pathetic.

"Hmm," Edward said curtly, the casual tone of his voice gone.

…

The alley sloped downward and grew narrower as we progressed through it. After a while, there was a loose curve in the path, so I didn't see the squared-off dead end coming until we reached the flat, windowless, brick wall. When we reached it, the little one called Jane was nowhere to be seen.

Edward paused and glanced over his shoulder at Felix and Demetri, as though he were waiting for some kind of instruction. But Alice didn't hesitate or break pace as she strode toward the wall. And I was starting to think that we might have a Platform Nine-and Three Quarters situation on our hands, when suddenly, with easy grace, she slid down an open hole in the street.

I hadn't noticed the hole until Alice had disappeared into it. And even Edward, who had been here at least once before, looked a little surprised. Though he was probably just startled that Alice had gone ahead without seeking the approval of our escorts. That was a little off.

It wasn't like Alice was someone who could just traipse into Volturi territory unannounced.

While Edward deliberated his next move, I examined the place where Alice had disappeared into a little more closely. The hole looked like a drain, sunk into the lowest point of the paving. And right now, the grate that usually covered it was halfway pushed aside, revealing a small, deep, black pit.

I balked at the idea of going down there.

"It's alright, Bella," Edward said in a low voice. "Alice will catch you, won't you Alice?"

"Sure thing!" Alice called up to reassure me. But her voice came from too far below to make me feel better.

I eyed the hole doubtfully and gulped. My one dangerous stint with cliff diving aside, I really hated the sensation of falling. And it certainly didn't help that Edward was wearing a suspicious expression on his face. Like there was something untrustworthy about this.

But our looming escorts were starting to get impatient with us. Demetri cleared his throat more noisily than necessary. And Felix's boots started tapping the flagstones beneath us at a fervid pace.

Worried that they might decide to take matters into their own hands if I didn't move fast enough, I crouched down near the hole, and swung my legs into the narrow gap.

But I hesitated in that position—the long, dark drop was too scary, even with a familiar face waiting on the other side. And just as I was about to give up, Edward took hold of my wrists and lowered me gently into the blackness.

"Ready?" he asked.

I didn't respond. There was no way I would ever be ready for this.

I squeezed my eyes tightly closed so I couldn't see the darkness. Then clamped my mouth shut so I wouldn't scream.

"Drop her," Alice called.

Edward let me fall.

The drop was silent and short. The air whipped past me for just half a second. And then, with a soft "oof", I landed in Alice's waiting arms.

I was going to have bruises; her arms were very hard. But at least she hadn't dropped me. I wasn't sure I would have survived that.

Alice dusted me off and stood me upright.

It was dim, but not completely black down here. A few rays of sunlight slipped in through small hole above us, faintly illuminating the walls around us. I could see that they were the same, cinnamon brown color as all of the buildings in the city, and slick with barely glistening water.

I guess we really were in a drain.

Jane, who stood only a few yards ahead of us, made an impatient noise in the back of her throat, clearly wanting us to get moving. But Alice and I stalwartly waited near the hole for Edward.

Of course, we didn't have to wait long. In another second, the light coming in from the hole vanished briefly, obscured by something. And then Edward was a faint, white radiance beside me.

He put his arm around me, holding me close to his side—a gesture I hadn't expected, but relished. Then, mindful of Jane's impatient glare, he began to tow me swiftly forward.

I wrapped both my arms around his cold waist so I wouldn't lose my balance. And I tried to keep pace with his swift movements, my feet tripping and stumbling across the uneven stone floor.

While I struggled, Demetri and Felix came in after us. And the sound of the heavy metal grate sliding over the drain hole behind us rang with metallic finality.

The dim light from the street disappeared when the grate closed, plunging us all into pitch blackness.

Suddenly blind, my stumbling became worse. The echoes reverberating against the tunnel walls made it seem very wide, but I couldn't be sure. There were no other sounds besides my frantic heartbeat and my feet slipping over wet stones.

Well, except for once, when an impatient sigh whispered from one of the vampires behind me.

_If my human slowness bothers you so much, maybe you should have just followed Edward's instructions and let me go!_ I thought snarkily.  _It's your own damn fault you have to wait for me._

Of course, I didn't say anything of the sort out loud. There was no need to hasten my death.

As we progressed through the gloom, Edward held me tightly in one of his arms, and reached his free hand across his body to hold my face. His smooth thumb traced unintelligible patterns across my lips. And now and then, I felt his face press into my hair.

I stiffened at first, recalling how thirsty Edward was. And how dangerous it was for him to inhale my scent so deeply….

But then I had a horrible epiphany. This might be the only reunion we would get.

So despite the danger, I clutched myself closer to him.

And thankfully, Edward seemed to be in enough control of himself not to devour me then and there.

I spent a few moments marveling at his strength, before the shock settled in. The way Edward was holding me now… it almost felt like old times. Like he actually wanted me.

I must be delirious from all the adrenaline, I decided. Whatever Edward felt now was probably no more than guilt—the same guilt that compelled him to come here to die when he'd believed that it was his fault that I'd killed myself.

But I kept feeling his lips press silently against my forehead every now and again—something I had a hard time believing was prompted by guilt. And I resolved then and there that I didn't care what the motivation was. At least I could be with Edward again before I died. That was better than a long life.

I exhaled deeply, feeling content.

Well, almost content.

The inkling that Edward might actually want me again was enough to offset most of the horror of the subterranean tunnel, and the prowling vampires behind us. But I still wished I could ask Edward exactly what was going to happen now. I wanted desperately to know how we were going to die—as if knowing would somehow make it better. But I couldn't speak, even in a whisper, surrounded as we were. The others could hear everything—my every breath, my every heartbeat….

While I lamented our lack of privacy, the path beneath our feet continued to slant downward, taking us deeper underground. And that, combined with the total darkness made me claustrophobic. Only Edward's hand, soothing against my face, kept me from screaming out loud.

I couldn't tell where the light was coming from, but our surroundings slowly turned dark grey instead of black. We were in a low, arched tunnel—still part of the drain, I gathered from the long trails of moisture seeping down the grey stones.

I was shaking violently by the time we got here, and at first I thought it was from fear. It wasn't until my teeth started chattering that I realized I was cold. My clothes were still wet from the fountain, and the temperature underneath the city was wintry. As was Edward's skin.

Edward must have realized this at the same time that I did, for he suddenly let go of me, keeping only my hand in his so that I wouldn't have to grope blindly in the darkness.

The sudden absence of his embrace was jarring. And my first thought was to chatter out a pathetic protest and insist that Edward remain clinging to me, hypothermia be damned. If I was willing to die for him, certainly I should also be willing to part with a few nonessential fingers too, right?

But as the light in the tunnel grew stronger, I could see his eyes more clearly, like bottomless wells of ink. And I noticed that they were lingering in an unnerving way on my exposed neck and arms.

_Maybe he isn't as strong as I thought,_ the words came unbidden to my mind.  _Maybe my proximity is too tempting._

I surprised myself by feeling relieved all of sudden that Edward was content with only holding my hand. And I shivered again. Though this time, not because of the cold.

…

We hurried through the rest of the tunnel—at least, it felt like hurrying to me. My slow progress irritated someone—I guessed Felix—and I heard him heave an impatient sigh now and then. Which almost made me angry. But I was too frightened to allow any room for that emotion.

At the end of the tunnel was another grate—this one much larger and rectangular than the small, circular one before. The iron bars were rusting, which might have made them seem weak if they weren't as thick as my arm. A small door made of thinner, interlaced bars interrupted the grate. And it was standing open.

Edward ducked through the door. And after Felix and Demetri filed through, the grille slammed shut behind us with a  _clang_ , followed by the snap of a lock.

The sound made me very uncomfortable. I couldn't help but feel like we were being locked in.

On the plus side, though, it looked like we were out of the sewer tunnels. Instead, we were in a brightly lit, unremarkable hallway. The walls were off-white, the floor carpeted in industrial gray, and common rectangular fluorescent lights were spaced evenly along the celling. It was warmer here, for which I was grateful. This hall seemed very benign after the gloom of the subterranean tunnels.

I relaxed automatically, feeling safer in this new environment. But Edward didn't seem to agree with my assessment. Beside me, he tensed, his jaw clenched tight. And he glowered darkly down the long hallway, at the small, black shrouded figure at the end, standing by an elevator.

With deep reluctance, he pulled me along toward the metal elevator doors. Alice walked on my other side, her body language completely unlike Edward's. Whereas he seemed tense and defensive, she seemed completely at ease. Like she was walking around in her own home, rather than within the confusing Volturi labyrinth.

I wondered if perhaps the reason for her confidence was because she knew something I didn't. Maybe she'd seen something positive in our futures? Maybe she already had a plan that would miraculously get us all out of here alive?

But if that was the case, why hadn't she shared it mentally with Edward yet? Surely, there was no good reason to deliberately keep him in the dark?

I tried not to worry about it as we drew closer to the figure waiting by the elevator. It was Jane, standing near the open doors with an apathetic expression.

When the six of us were all present, she made a tiny movement I didn't see. And as if on cue, everyone swiftly piled into the cramped, industrial space. Once inside the elevator, the three vampires that belonged to the Volturi threw back the hoods of their cloaks, letting them fall back dramatically on their shoulders.

The sudden movement startled me for a second. But having been around vampires for more than a year now, I recovered quickly. And took the opportunity to examine my escorts.

While Jane's skin was the same alabaster as Edward's, Felix and Demetri both had a olive complexion, made somewhat ashy by vampirism, but no less dark. Both men also had black hair, in stark contrast Jane's pale, dirty blonde. But Felix's black hair was cropped short, while Demetri's waved to his shoulders.

The one thing all three had in common, of course was their eyes—a dark red color I was tempted to call wine or burgundy. It was nowhere near as dark as Edward's obsidian gaze. But equally far away from the brightness of Alice's freshly-fed topaz.

If I had to guess, I'd say the Volturi had last hunted a week ago. And would need to hunt again in another week. But the color of their eyes told me that their next victims would not be forest animals.

And even though Alice had warned me before going in that the Volturi didn't share the Cullen philosophy on the value of human life, I still shuddered. It was one thing to know objectively that the Volturi routinely murdered people for their blood. But it was another entirely to see the evidence of that fact for myself.

I cowered in the corner away from the human-drinking vampires. Edward's hand still clutched mine, even though I no longer needed him as a tether, now that I could see. And for the remainder of the elevator ride, he never took his eyes off Jane.

The elevator ride itself couldn't have been that long. A minute, at most. But given how closely I was crammed in with one vampire who would very much like to sink his teeth into my neck, and three others who were quite apathetic about whether I lived or died, it felt like forever.

I tried distracting myself from the imminent danger by making harmless observations about my escorts—like what they were wearing underneath their cloaks. But it wasn't entirely successful in calming my raging nerves.

Jane wore a simple, knee-length black dress, with girlish white tights and low black heels—an outfit that somehow managed to look at once, juvenile, imposing and relatively nondescript simultaneously. In contrast, Demetri and Felix were both dressed maturely in dark suits, with crimson dress-shirts, and polished shoes.

Though again, they all had one unifying factor—a pendant made of some silvery metal was secured over all three of their unbeating hearts. The pendant was shaped like a capital "V", with two red stones—rubies, probably—fixed at either end. And in the gap created by the letter was a small crest, bearing what I guessed was the Volturi coat of arms.

My heartrate picked up when I saw the necklaces. Somehow, the idea that the Volturi had their own insignia made them all the more frightening.

I guess Alice was right. The Volturi really were serious business.

When the elevator finally arrived at its destination, having gone even further underground, the metal doors slid open, and we stepped out into what looked like a high-class office reception area.

I blinked quizzically at my surroundings for a moment. After the sewers and the boring hallway leading the elevator, I hadn't pegged the Volturi for people with refined interior design tastes. But this room clearly proved that they were.

The walls were paneled in expensive wood—my money was on mahogany—and the floors were carpeted in thick, deep green. There were no windows, but large, brightly lit paintings of the Tuscan countryside hung everywhere as replacements. Pale leather couches were arranged in cozy groupings. And the glossy tables beside them held crystal vases full of vibrantly colored bouquets. The flowers' smell reminded me of a funeral home.

The obvious focal point of the room, though, lied in the center. A high, polished wooden counter took up a good portion of the space. It was impressive, both in construction, and sheer size. But I quickly forgot about it, when I noticed the woman behind it.

My mouth hung open.

She was tall, with bronze skin and green eyes. And she would have been very pretty in any other company—but not here. Because she was every bit as human as I was. And humanity, even at its best, could never compare with the beauty of immortals.

I gawked at her for far longer than was polite. But I just couldn't comprehend what this human woman was doing here, totally at ease, surrounded by vampires. Especially when Alice had made it very clear that the Volturi's prime directive was keeping the existence of vampires a secret from humans.

The woman smiled politely at us in welcome. "Good afternoon, Jane."

_Perhaps she doesn't know everything?_  I reasoned.

But that thought lost all credibility almost instantly. There was no surprise in the receptionist's face as she glanced at Jane's company—cloaks and red eyes and all. Nor when she saw Edward, his bare chest glinting dimly in the white lights. Or even when she glanced at me, disheveled and comparatively hideous.

_She has to know. She just has to._

And instead of feeling that there might be a chance that I would be allowed to live, if this woman was permitted to know and was yet alive, I felt a surge of pity for her. Because her time was almost definitely limited.

Jane nodded politely at the receptionist. "Gianna."

The acknowledgement was minor. But the flicker of dark red eyes in the receptionist's direction was enough to stand the hairs on the back of my neck on end.

However, instead of looking frightened, as I imagined anyone sane ought to be, Gianna beamed in response. And to make matters worse, she gave what almost looked like a little bow. She was  _honored_  to be working for these monsters. And she didn't even have the excuse of ignorance.

I could tell just by looking at her that Gianna knew the truth. And if the Volturi weren't concerned that she knew, I just couldn't imagine that she was oblivious to what they ate. Surely, in her time employed here, she had seen things? The Volturi, after all, weren't like the Cullens, who left on "camping trips" every other weekend. They brought their prey— _human_  prey—in. And some of those humans might have even passed this very desk, before meeting their grisly end.

I suppressed a shudder as I tried and failed to understand her motivations. It disturbed me that Gianna might not care about what her employers did. Or worse, that she might wish to someday  _join_  them.

While my head reeled with the awful possibilities, Jane marched forward toward a set of wooden double doors in the back of the room. And we obediently followed.

As Felix passed the receptionist's counter, he winked at Gianna flirtatiously.

She giggled, a deep rose blush coloring her cheeks. And I suddenly felt sick.

...

On the other side of the wooden doors, we were greeted by a pale boy in a long, black, high-collared, double-breasted coat. He too, wore the tell-tale Volturi pendant. And he could have been Jane's twin. His hair was darker. And his lips were not as full. But he was just as lovely, in the same eerie, childlike way.

As soon as we came out of the receptionist's office, he came forward to meet us. He smiled. But only at one of us.

"Jane," he breathed her name reverently, almost like a prayer.

"Alec," she responded with equal reverence, embracing the boy. They kissed each other's cheeks on both sides—a casual European gesture that felt weird to my American sensibilities. It seemed too intimate for siblings.

At last, they broke away from each other. And Alec turned to look at us. Though he was still speaking to his sister.

"They send you out for one and you come back with two… and a half," he noted looking at me.

I felt a pang of offense.  _Is that what humans counted for in vampire society?_   _Only half of a person?_

Alec, who didn't seem to find anything amiss with his words, smiled again, impressed. "Nice work."

Jane laughed—the sound sparkled with delight. And it unsettled me. Anything that made the tiny, emotionless vampire laugh, was not good.

"Welcome back, Edward," Alec greeted, like he was speaking to a reoccurring guest. "You seem in a better mood."

"Marginally," Edward agreed in a hard, flat voice.

I tensed, expecting the young boy to take offense at Edward's harsh tone. But Alec merely chuckled at Edward's response. And examined me as I clung to Edward's side.

"And this is the cause of all the trouble?" Alec asked, skeptical. He clearly didn't think I was worth the effort. But then again, I was only half of a person in his eyes. If even that.

I expected Edward to leap to my defense. Or at least to his own—Alec was slighting Edward's intelligence by suggesting I wasn't worth dying for.

But Edward only smiled contemptuously. And it looked like we were about to move on, when suddenly Edward froze.

"Dibs," Felix called casually from behind.

I didn't register at first what Felix meant. But Edward, who'd heard the dark thoughts that accompanied the strange word, turned around instantly, a low snarl building deep in his chest.

It wasn't until Felix smiled—baring his venom-soaked teeth—that I understood what he'd meant. Felix was establishing his claim on me in the same casual way a group of roommates might call dibs on the last piece of pizza.

I blanched. I could easily understand why that made Edward upset. And Felix's goading Edward with a beckoning gesture, was not helping matters. But I desperately didn't want the two to fight.

And to my great relief, I wasn't the only one. Just as Edward began to shift into a fighting stance, Alice touched his arm. And he stilled.

"Patience," she cautioned. Though her eyes, full of warning, were on Felix, rather than Edward.

And to my surprise, Felix backed down just as readily as he would had the command come from Jane or Demetri.

Alice turned to Edward next. He and Felix exchanged a long glance full of repressed tension, and I wished I could hear what Alice was telling Edward with her thoughts. I figured that it must be something about not attacking Felix, because Edward took a deep breath and turned back to Alec.

"Aro will be so pleased to see you again," Alec said as if nothing had happened. Though I wasn't sure if he meant Edward or Alice. I couldn't tell which he was looking at.

"Let's not keep him waiting," Jane suggested impatiently.

Edward nodded once. Then Alec and Jane, holding hands, led the way down yet another wide, ornate hall—would there ever be an end?

They ignored the doors at the end of the hall—doors entirely sheathed in gold—stopping halfway down the hall. I wasn't sure what they were doing, until they slid a piece of paneling aside to expose a plain wooden door. It wasn't locked, or otherwise secured. And I felt it was strange to even hide it.

_Who else, but the Volturi would even be able to get in here? I mean, just getting to this hallway, through the sewers and all the locked gates and doors had been impossible without an escort,_ I reasoned.

Whatever the Volturi's rationale was behind hiding the door, I would probably never know.

Alec held the secret door open for Jane, and we all scurried into the room after her. I wanted to groan when Edward and I reached the other side of the door. The room was lined with same ancient stone of the square, the alley, and the sewers. And like the sewers, it was dark and cold again.

My only consolation was that the stone antechamber was not large. It opened quickly into a brighter, cavernous room, perfectly round like a huge castle turret… which was probably exactly what it was.

Or at least, the third century equivalent, sunk deep into the earth, and renovated slightly over the centuries to preserve structural integrity. In the very center of the circular room, in a slight depression, was another drain—which I couldn't imagine had been part of the original design. I wondered if the Volturi had added it to use as an exit, like they did with the hole in the street.

As I continued looking around the room, drinking in just how vast it was, I was surprised, with how bright it was in here, that there were no artificial lights, or even candles. The only source of illumination came from two stories up, where a series of long window slits had been carved into the cinnamon brown rock, and threw thin rectangles of bright sunlight onto the stone floor below.

I was also surprised by to find that the only furniture in the room were three, massive wooden chairs that looked like thrones of some kind. They sat on a little dais raised a few feet above the main floor, with several steps leading up to it. And they were flush with the far, curving stone wall.

But despite the paltry accommodations, the room was not empty. A sizeable crowd of at least thirty vampires were convened in clusters here and there, engaged in seemingly relaxed conversation. The murmur of low, smooth voices created a gentle hum in the air. As I watched, a pair of pale women in filmy, scarlet dresses paused in a patch of light. And their skin, like prisms, threw rainbow sparkles of light against the sienna walls.

The exquisite faces all turned toward our strange party as we entered the room. And their light-hearted conversations died when they saw us. But I couldn't be sure what the vampires felt about our intrusion. They observed the six of us—five vampires and one human—with disciplined, unreadable expressions.

Ducking behind Edward, I observed the crowd as surreptitiously as I could manage. Most of the immortals were dressed in same sort of clothing as the tourists on the streets above—mostly formal attire, with lots of crimson. The only addition they wore was the same V-shaped pendant as my escorts. But the man who spoke first, was another story.

For a moment, I thought his long, jet black hair was the hood of his cloak. But he wasn't wearing a cloak. Instead he wore long, pitch-black robes that brushed against the floor. I wasn't knowledgeable enough about fashion to know what they were made of. But the inky material looked expensive. And it was clearly tailored to perfection. 

"Jane dear, you've returned!" this man cried in evident delight, his voice soft like feathers.

The sound stirred something in me. I thought I was used to the musical quality of vampire voices by now. But the beauty of this one's startled me. I couldn't help but smile, it was so gorgeous. And I wondered if I would still be smiling if that heavenly voice condemned me to death.

It unnerved me that I couldn't firmly say "no."

Suddenly, the robed man drifted forward, and the movement flowed with such surreal grace that I gawked, my mouth hanging open. Even Alice, whose every motion looked like dancing, could not compare.

The entire group of vampires, who had been loitering around in uncertain pockets since our arrival, suddenly converged around the man as he approached us, in one, synchronized movement. Most trailed behind him. But two women, both with dark hair and the same, pale, olive complexions as Felix and Demetri, walked in front with the alert manner of bodyguards.

I found it impressive that without a single word, this man could command so many vampires to do his bidding. And I only became more astonished as he floated closer, and I could see his face. Unlike the other inhuman faces around him, I couldn't decide right away if he was beautiful or not.

I suppose his Grecian features were perfectly symmetrical and pleasantly angular. But his hairline came to a severe point in the middle of his forehead. And there was too much contrast between his pale almond skin, and the long, midnight-black tresses that framed his face for him to meet any human standard of male beauty. Not to mention that most cultures didn't consider any shade of red to be an appropriate color for eyes.

After a little bit more examination, however, I decided I was being stupid. Of course he was beautiful. How could a vampire be anything less?

While I pondered this, he loomed closer to us. So close that I felt a strange, horrifying urge to reach out and touch his cheek, to see if his cheekbones really were as immaculate as they appeared. But his eyes, the same, dark red as my three Volturi escorts, stopped me.

This man also cared nothing for human life, I had to remind myself firmly. I could easily die if I made the wrong move.

Edward tensed as the robed man got within reaching distance, obviously expecting violence. But he glided past Edward and I, to Jane. Then, he took her hand, and gave it a cordial shake. 

Jane smiled, the expression making her look like an angelic child. "I brought him back alive, just as you wished, Master."

"Ah Jane," the robed vampire sighed, happily, also smiling. "You're such a comfort to me."

His smile, though slight, sent a strange tremor through my body. And those feelings—an undecipherable combination of fascination, and fear—only became stronger when his eyes turned to us, and his smile grew ecstatic.

"And Alice and Isabella too!" he rejoiced, clapping his thin hands together. "What a happy surprise!"

I stared in shock as he called our names informally, as if we were old friends dropping in for an unexpected visit. And Edward too, looked off-put by the familiarity. Only Alice seemed at ease with the man's casual greeting. Though I couldn't fathom why.

While I struggled to figure out the source of Alice's comfort, the robed vampire turned to our hulking escort. "Felix, be a dear and tell my brothers about our company. I'm sure they wouldn't want to miss this."

Felix nodded obediently. "Yes, Master." Then he disappeared back the way we had come in a hazy blur of black and red.

"You see, Edward," The robed vampire turned next to Edward, and smiled like a fond, but scolding grandfather. "What did I tell you? Aren't you glad that I didn't give you what you wanted yesterday?"

"Yes, Aro, I am," Edward agreed.

Though his expression did not match his words. His lips were pursed tightly. And he clutched my hand even tighter. I guessed that this enemy vampire—who I now knew was named Aro—did not have as kind of thoughts as his words.

Aro briefly looked bewildered at Edward's response—though I couldn't begin to imagine why. And he eyed the hand clutching mine dubiously.

But Edward didn't dare let go. Or amend his statement.

"Oh, I love a happy ending," Aro sighed unexpectedly. "They are so rare."

Aro gazed up at the high, domed ceiling above us for a minute, like he was remembering something wonderful. And Edward and I exchanged puzzled looks, before Aro rapidly came back to earth. His expression, as it came back into view, was no longer pleasant, but dark, and serious.

"But I want the whole story," he demanded, his dark red eyes flashing. "How did this happen? Alice?"

Aro wheeled suddenly on Alice, unbound curiosity flickering in his wide eyes. The intensity of his stare was such that I was certain Alice was going to flinch this time, or show some other sign of distress. But she didn't even blink.

Nor did she speak.

For a moment, Aro looked deeply offended. He clearly wasn't used to people not responding to his orders. Even if those people were meeting him for the first time, apparently.

But before he could challenge her silence, Alice tilted her head ever-so-slightly in Edward's direction. And abruptly Aro seemed to understand. He winced like he'd made a mistake. And I could have sworn Alice rolled her eyes.

Again, I was hopelessly lost. Alice and Aro's silent communication was absolutely indecipherable. And I was starting to doubt, based on how familiar the two seemed with one another that this  _was_  their first meeting.

But before I could ask the one person who surely knew, suddenly Edward let out a low, rumbling noise that was almost—but not quite—a growl. I guessed he was hearing things in people's thoughts that he didn't like. Though, from the way his eyes flickered suspiciously between Alice and Aro, I couldn't be sure who he was mad at.

Alice shook her head, and mouthed the words "don't listen to him," while pointing to Aro.

But Edward's eyes narrowed at his surrogate sister all the same. And his hand unlinked from mine to coil protectively around my waist.

Unfortunately, this time, he wrapped his arm around me a little too tightly. I struggled to breathe.

"Alice!" he cried, scandalized by something he'd seen in her thoughts. "You traitor!"

"No, Edward, you don't understand—" Alice tried to argue.

But Edward was past the point of listening. "What is there not to understand?" he challenged, his teeth snapping together savagely. "You work for them now?!" He sounded especially hurt by that fact. "Alice, how could you? What about what Carlisle taught us? And how much happier it made Jasper? Did all of that mean  _nothing_  to you?!"

My blood ran cold.

_You work for them._

Alice… worked for the Volturi? Is that what Edward was saying? What he'd read in her thoughts just now?

I mean, Alice had said it was possible to lie in one's thoughts. So strictly speaking it wasn't  _impossible_  for her to have kept her employment by the Volturi secret from the both of us until now.

Still, I could scarcely believe it.  _Could anyone really have that much control over what went through their own mind?_

My stomach lurched. Then my eyes flew back to Alice, silently begging her to refute Edward's words. If she denied it—said she wasn't working for the Volturi—I was prepared to believe her. I couldn't remember her ever really lying to me before. At least not about something  _this_  important.

But to my horror, Alice did nothing of the sort. Rather than denying anything, she merely pursed her perfect lips. And gave me a tiny, sad little nod.

"It's true?" I exhaled in shock. "You really are with them?" I swept an arm around me, indicating the red-eyed crowd.

Alice nodded again. And before I could make any further protests she reached into her shirt, and pulled free a silvery-pendant she'd been wearing beneath her clothes. A pendant that perfectly matched the ones every Volturi in the room was wearing proudly over their unbeating hearts.

My throat got all thick. "How long?" I choked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Twilight. If I did, it would be a lot more violent. And the Volturi would be main characters. ;)

 

CHAPTER TWO: RECONNAISSANCE

…

_But just because I'm not looking, doesn't mean I don't see_

_I wasn't keeping tabs on you, I swear, Bella._

_It's just that I'm already attuned to you..._

\- Alice, New Moon Chapter 17

…

I hardly thought my question needed any clarification. But for a moment, Alice just regarded me blankly, like she didn't fully understand. Or like there might be multiple things she had been doing behind our backs, and she wasn't sure which one I meant.

I swallowed—I didn't like that thought. Then I decided to specify.

"How long have you been working for the Volturi?" I asked Alice, my voice wavering.

I wasn't sure if I really wanted to know. But if I was being honest with myself, I fully expected Alice to say sometime after I left. That after the Cullens had moved out of Forks, she had become interested, for whatever reason, in being part of the force that arbitrated vampire justice. And she simply hadn't gotten around to telling me yet.

While not exactly comfortable, that response wouldn't exactly make her dishonest. We hadn't really had much time to discuss anything like that, after all. Yesterday, when Alice returned to Forks, she was too worried about making sure I was alive. And not too long after, we were both too worried about Edward dying.

But when the truth flickered across Alice's mind, Edward growled—hardly an encouraging sign. And Alice sighed, before she explained.

"Aro and I first met a year or so after I was turned—in the nineteen twenties."

_Since the nineteen-twenties? All this time, Alice has been lying to me? To Edward? To everyone?_

I was devastated.

"He was in the area, taking care of some things…" Alice didn't elaborate on what those things were. But it wasn't hard to guess, given what the Volturi did. And I was grateful that Alice was editing for my benefit.

"And since then, I've been, well… an off and on member," Alice finished with a shrug.

"Not as often 'on' as I would like," Aro expressed honestly, shaking his head. "Which is a real pity. In all my many years, I have never observed another with a talent like yours. It really has no suitable replacement," he lamented.

Aro's eyes turned suddenly vulturine, and honed in again on Alice's. He seemed to be looking at her more like she was a valuable piece of jewelry, than a person with feelings.

And though Alice betrayed nothing while Aro's gaze flickered up and down her frame, I couldn't imagine she was comfortable with the appraisal Aro was giving her.

Of course, I didn't know that for sure.

Maybe she was enjoying it—being basically checked out by a sexy, older vampire.

Heaven knew I would be.

Well, at least if I weren't currently so hideous. I was aching for a change of clothes and a hairbrush.

"Though," Aro remarked, disrupting my thoughts "It is strange, having witnessed some of your more amazing exploits, that there was some mistake. Edward seemed to think you infallible…"

Aro's tone to voice seemed to indicate that he shared that impression. And his gesture to me, before pantomiming a slit throat clearly demonstrated he was surprised to see me alive.

I gulped. That didn't bode well.

"Oh I'm far from infallible," Alice admitted easily. She pointed a gloved hand in my direction. "As you can see, I cause problems as often as I cure them."

Aro didn't look away from Alice. He raised a single, skeptical eyebrow. And the look in his eyes was almost predatory. "Is that so?"

Alice, who still looked perfectly at ease, flashed a dazzling smile at Aro, I guessed, to try and curb his worrying enthusiasm. But it didn't really work.

Instead of losing interest, Aro responded to Alice's remarks with a strange little smirk.

Alice shot him a dark look, clearly fed up with his possessiveness. But it lacked any real malice.

"So what does that mean exactly?" I sputtered at Alice, struggling to work through my feelings of betrayal. "When you were with the Cullens—that whole period, from the nineteen-fifties until now—that was 'off'?"

Alice's mouth pulled into a slight grimace. "Not quite." She turned to face Aro then, her face apologetic. "I'm sorry I left so abruptly in the summer of '48, but I've been doing some reconnaissance—"

Alice was obviously trying to slip one past me. But she couldn't fool me with her big words.

"You've been  _spying_  on us?" I blurted out, aghast at the idea.

Aro too looked a little surprised. But he recovered quickly. "When I learned from Edward that you had been staying with Carlisle this whole time I  _did_  wonder… Though, I must admit, you are quite the masterful liar. And in your own thoughts, no less…"

Aro trailed off and shook his head in awe. "I had no inkling whatsoever until now that your loyalties still lied with us. I was worried that we had lost you forever."

Aro's face was utterly solemn. But only for a moment. Then it brightened unexpectedly and he chuckled.

"So imagine my surprise when I saw you had returned to us, still carrying our emblem…"

Aro pointed lazily in the direction of the Volturi pendant Alice now wore proudly on the outside of her clothes. Then his thin lips stretched into a wide, unnerving smile.

"I trust, you have news, then?" he asked, extending his hand toward her, palm upward, in invitation.

Alice eyed the hand a little warily. But before she could say or do anything more, I interrupted her.

"You've been spying on me—with the intention of reporting back to him—this whole time?"

Suddenly I felt sick. I couldn't express properly how much that knowledge hurt. Even if my life was pretty unremarkable, and I had very little to hide.

Alice's face scrunched up in offense. "Not you specifically. At least… not at first. You weren't around in nineteen-fifty, remember?"

_Oh. Duh._

I wanted to smack myself in the forehead for being so stupid.

"Carlisle?" I guessed, surprised that hadn't been my first thought.

I knew that Carlisle had spent some time with the Volturi before—as hard as it was to imagine the kindly doctor in living with such murderous companions. And it wasn't too hard to believe that Aro might want to hear an update about the doctor.

Alice nodded.

"You just wanted to make sure he was fairing alright, with… vegetarianism, right? And maybe give it a shot yourself?"

When I said it out loud, it didn't sound so bad.

Aro and Carlisle had parted ways three hundred years ago over Carlisle's diet. A diet Carlisle had once told me Aro feared would kill him. Which was, in my mind preposterous.  _Animal blood? Lethal?_

But I had to admit that I was very biased. In the nine months or so I'd spent with the Cullens before their departure, I'd seen not just one vampire, but  _seven_ thrive on animal blood.

But since Carlisle was basically the first vampire to even think of the idea, Aro, of course, had seen no such thing. And if what Carlisle had told me was in fact, true—that he and Aro really had been good friends at one point—then it made sense that Aro would want to check in. To make sure Carlisle hadn't malnourished himself to death.

Alice laughed at our little euphemism for Carlisle's diet. "Partially. But that's not the only reason."

_Not the only reason?_

Instantly, I panicked. "Is he in trouble?"

I had a hard time picturing Carlisle running afoul of any vampire laws. Hell, he hardly broke any  _human_ laws; the only exceptions being the laws against insider trading—what I assumed using Alice to predict the stock markets amounted to—and the speed limit. And he certainly didn't break any of the  _important_ laws. Like the ones against stealing things. Or killing people.

Alice, to my great relief shook her head. "No, no, of course not. Carlisle's never broken any of our rules."

It was weird to hear Alice say " _our_  rules". The notion that she'd been secretly in Aro's employ for all this time was still sinking in.

"Then why…?"

I was still confused.  _If Carlisle hasn't broken any rules. And Alice wasn't just watching him to make sure drinking animal blood didn't kill him. Then what other reason could…?_

Alice turned to face Aro then. And suddenly something else occurred to me, cutting off that thought.

_If Alice was planning to spy on Carlisle for the Volturi, why didn't she inform Aro before she left?_

That seemed even more suspicious. Aro didn't seem too upset by the lack of forewarning. But still… he did appear to be the man in charge…

Aro was still holding his hand out, expecting Alice to come forward and take it. "May I?" he asked, overflowing with eagerness. "It has been so long. And I am so curious to see your memories of Carlisle. Edward's provided much valuable insight. But I trust, there is more I can learn from your observations?"

"W-wait, I'm sorry, I'm lost," I blurted out, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. "Memories?"

I cringed as all the dark red eyes in the room flew to fixate on me. Their gazes were fierce, and unforgiving. Like I was being terribly rude for even existing, and had only made my crime worse by calling attention to myself.

But Aro, though he had an imposing air about him, thankfully, did not appear share their ire. His face softened immediately when his eyes turned on me. And he even looked a little apologetic.

"I am terribly sorry Isabella, we have not been properly introduced yet, have we?" he asked with a politeness that seemed horribly out of place with how tense the atmosphere had become.

I blinked at Aro quizzically. He wasn't making any sense. "Introduced?"

I already knew his name was Aro. And he already knew my name was Isabella—probably because Edward had given me as his reason for wanting to die.  _Was anything beyond that really important?_

"I simply feel like I know you already, and I tend to get ahead of myself," Aro told me with a hint of self-deprecation. "You see, Edward introduced us yesterday, in a peculiar way."

My eyebrows knit together in confusion.  _Introduced us? How could Edward have possibly introduced me to Aro without my being present?_

"As it so happens, I share some of Edward's talent," Aro told me slowly, hanging onto each word a bit longer than necessary to make sure I didn't miss anything. "Only, I am limited in a way that he is not."

Aro sounded more than a little envious.

But Edward didn't seem to think Aro's jealousy was warranted. He scowled. "And also exponentially more powerful."

I looked to Edward again, confusion still etched plainly into my features.

Edward paused for just a moment, carefully contemplating his next choice of words. When he found the right ones, he fixed his black eyes on mine. Though despite his valiant efforts, they kept straying toward my neck…

"Aro needs physical contact to hear your thoughts, but he hears much more than I do. You know I can only hear what's passing through your head in the moment. But Aro… well… he hears every thought your mind has ever had."

I gasped.  _What an exceptional power! Every thought? With just one touch?_

No wonder Edward didn't think Aro had any right to be jealous. People might be able to temporarily lie with their thoughts to Edward. But no one could keep any secrets from Aro. One measly point of contact, and  _bam,_  he would know  _everything_.

Quickly, I glanced at Alice. Of course she wasn't surprised at all—she already knew this. But now I understood her earlier unease. The idea of anyone rooting around inside my mind like that, and laying bare every last one of my secrets….

I shuddered.

"But to be able to hear from a distance…" Aro sighed wistfully. "That would be so  _convenient._ "

Aro fixed the same, hungry stare on Edward that he'd fixed on Alice a short while ago. And while I completely understood why it made Edward recoil in disgust, I didn't completely understand what it meant.

Did Aro plan to  _collect_  Edward's power for his own use somehow? Steal it, perhaps?

I knew Edward would never agree to use his gift for Aro's benefit willingly. At least, I was fairly certain he wouldn't, with the constantly violent lifestyle and amoral diet that seemed to be part of the Volturi package.

But maybe I was wrong to trust that. Alice, apparently thought the trade was worth it. So maybe there were perks to being part of the vampire royal family that outweighed the costs. Perks that I, as a human, would never understand.

While I thought it through, suddenly Aro looked back over our shoulders. And not long after, all the other heads turned to look in the same direction, including, Jane, Alec, and Demetri, who stood silently beside us.

I was the slowest to turn.

Felix was back. And behind him floated two more men clad in the same, expensive black robes as Aro. The crowd of vampires parted swiftly around them, halfway out of fear, and halfway out of respect. And as the two men moved closer I saw that both bore an uncanny resemblance to Aro.

In addition to the same, dark red irises, both had stately, Grecian features. And one even had the same, flowing black hair. Though it fell half-way down his back in waves, instead of straight. And his skin was much darker. The other had a startling shock of snow-white hair, the same shade as his face, which brushed his shoulders. It was a color that would have made him look old, if not for the fact that his face was completely free of any wrinkles.

I wondered if that was what vampires who were turned later in their life looked like—their faces wiped free of the flaws of age, and yet stuck with colorless hair for eternity. Or if the man was simply albino.

I would probably never know.

As Felix and the two robed men converged in the center of the room, near Aro, and the three of us, I realized that the trio from Carlisle's painting was complete. And not only that, but it was unchanged by the last three hundred years since it had been painted.

"Marcus, Caius, look!" Aro crooned, gesturing in a sweeping arc toward where I stood, suffocating in Edward's tight grasp. "Isabella is alive after all, and Alice is here with her! Isn't that wonderful?"

Neither of the two vampires Aro had addressed looked as if  _wonderful_  would be their first choice of words. The black-haired one seemed utterly bored, like he'd seen too many millennia of Aro's enthusiasm. And the other's face was sour under his long, snowy hair.

Their lack of interest did nothing to curb Aro's enjoyment. "Let us have the story," he almost sang in his feathery voice.

The white-haired ancient vampire drifted away, gliding toward one of the wooden thrones on the dais, where he took a seat. But he didn't relax one iota. His body was unnaturally stiff in the chair. And his eyes burned with malice and cool calculation.

The other, bored vampire, paused beside Aro. He reached his hand out, at first I thought to take Aro's hand. But rather than grasping it, he just touched Aro's palm briefly, then dropped his hand back to his side.

Aro raised one black brow. I couldn't tell if he was confused by the brief, not-exactly-friendly contact, or something else.

But whatever Aro was thinking made Edward snort very quietly. And I looked at Edward, begging him to tell me something.

"Thank you, Marcus," Aro said finally. "That's quite interesting."

I realized, a second late, that Marcus's strange gesture was his way of letting Aro know his thoughts. It would take some getting used to—the notion that people could share information like that. But I'd adjusted to Edward's silent interpretations well enough. So it was only a matter of time before I became acclimated to the way Aro read minds, too.

As Marcus drifted away from Aro to join the one who must be Caius, I noted that he didn't look interested at all. His face was utterly impassive. And it didn't change as he took a seat in one of the large, wooden thrones. So it appeared Aro's assessment wasn't universal.

As Marcus settled into his seat, leaving the middle throne unoccupied, two vampires broke away from the crowd hovering around Aro to go stand beside him. And the two women I'd seen before in filmy crimson dresses, went to stand beside Caius in the same manner. Bodyguards, I guessed.

But the idea of any vampire needing a bodyguard was so ridiculous that I struggled not to laugh at the sight.  _Were these two really so weak? Or did something else prompt the Volturi to surround themselves with unnecessary protection?_

The latter idea made more sense. But I was shaken from my thoughts when Aro started shaking his head.

"Amazing," he murmured, sounding delighted again. "Absolutely amazing."

"You see?" Alice asked Aro, clearly understanding something about his exchange with Marcus that I did not. "My loyalties to you were never in question."

Aro sighed in comprehension. "Ah yes. I do see that now," he confirmed. "And I have seen it before, however I did not fully believe it then."

Alice's face scrunched up quizzically. "Why not?"

"Believe it or not, you are not the only one who is fallible," Aro said, giving a little grin. "Marcus has been wrong before. The bond between him and his mate is still visible, though it should have been severed by her death a long time ago."

Alice frowned. "How… bizarre…"

Aro nodded. "Indeed."

Alice, who had, at least at one point, been intimately involved in Volturi affairs, knew exactly what had happened between Marcus and Aro just a few seconds ago. And Edward, of course, had his telepathy to clue him in. But I was frustrated.  _What is going on?_

"Marcus sees relationships," Alice whispered to me, seeing my confusion. "So he's always known that I was still loyal to Aro. But I guess Aro thought it was some kind of mistake." Alice shook her head, baffled. "I didn't know Marcus could be wrong. Even if it was just once..."

Alice trailed off, pursing her lips. Clearly the idea of Marcus's gift making an error was an unsettling one. And that knowledge made the cogs in my brain whir to life with abundant curiosity.

"Can he see everyone's relationships?" I couldn't help but ask. Vampire powers and their various limitations were fascinating. "Or just those of people he knows?"

"Only people he's met," Alice clarified. "Though, since you're here now, I bet he's already showed all of your emotional ties to Aro."

Aro smiled conspiratorially. Which I took as confirmation.

I struggled not to shudder. That seemed like a pretty huge invasion of privacy. And I hadn't even been given a warning.

"Marcus is surprised by the intensity of the bond between yourself and young Edward," Aro told me in a gentle voice. "And it takes quite a bit to surprise Marcus, I can assure you."

I looked again at Marcus' dead face. I could believe that. He looked like he hadn't seen anything even remotely exciting or interesting in the last two hundred years.

But before I could really start to ponder why that was, Aro's voice—a voice like feathers—drew my attention back to him. "Alice, would you do me the honor?" he asked, proffering his upturned hand toward her a little more urgently. "I can barely stand the suspense."

Alice heaved a long-suffering sigh like she was dealing with an impatient toddler. "Oh, alright."

She stepped away from us then, moving gracefully over the stone floor toward Aro. And Edward and I turned to watch.

Aro waved off his anxious guards as they moved to block her approach. And Alice didn't say anything to suggest that this was unusual. Though, as she moved, she did yank off one of the tan, elbow-length gloves she was wearing—the right one. Then she raised her now bare hand, palm-facing-downward, to reach for Aro's.

I guessed Aro's mind-reading powers didn't work without direct, skin-to-skin contact. And suddenly, I felt a strong compulsion to add more gloves to my wardrobe.

Aro, unwilling to wait until Alice reached where he stood, decided to flit forward after a moment, and meet her halfway. He then took her hand with an eager, acquisitive glint in his eyes. And bent his head over their touching hands, his eyes closing as he concentrated.

Alice was motionless in his grasp. And her face was eerily blank.

I heard Edward's teeth snap together. The sound made the fear building inside me grow to the extreme.  _What kind of awful things was he hearing? Did I even want to know?_

As Aro poured over Alice's thoughts, I realized this exchange wasn't at all like the one between Aro and Marcus—that brief brush of hands. No, this time, no one moved. Aro seemed frozen over Alice's hand. And as the seconds passed, I grew more and more stressed, wondering how much time would pass before it was  _too_  much time. Before it meant something was wrong.

Well, more wrong than it already was. The fact that Alice was sharing information about the Cullens with the Volturi so readily was already very,  _very_  wrong. It seemed almost too nightmarish to be real.

Maybe in another few minutes I would wake up, back in Forks, and discover that everything that had happened after Alice's return was just a surprisingly vivid dream. It was a nice thought. But I wasn't counting on it. I didn't have a good enough imagination to think of something like  _this_.

Another agonizing moment passed. Then Aro broke the silence.

He laughed, his head still bent forward. Then he looked up from his hand slowly, his eyes bright with excitement.

"That was  _fascinating_!"

Alice smiled dryly and pulled back her hand. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I always have enjoyed your thoughts," Aro said fondly. "To see the things you've seen—especially the ones that haven't happened yet!" He shook his head in wonder.

"But that will," Alice reminded him, her voice firm.

I wasn't sure why, but Aro's face fell immediately after hearing this. "Yes, yes, it is quite determined," he said, sounding suddenly very grave. "And you are quite sure that Isabella is the woman in your visions?"

Alice nodded. "Positive."

I looked at Alice questioningly. "Visions? What visions?"

 _Alice hadn't told me about any visions starring me,_ I thought.

Well, that wasn't strictly true. Alice had told me about  _one_  during our flight from New York to Florence. A vision she'd had before James had bitten me. A vision of me as a vampire.

 _Is that what she's referring to?_  It didn't really make sense. Alice was talking about visions in the plural, not the singular. Not to mention her vision of me becoming a vampire hadn't really panned out. It was another one of her "mistakes."

_But what else could she have seen? Was there something else? Something she'd never told me?_

"I must confess I am not sure how to feel about all this, Alice," Aro commented with a weary sigh. "You have given me much to consider. About Carlisle, and Isabella, and most especially this new bit of… rather grave news you bring."

Alice's expression was unreadable. And her voice was toneless. "You know what needs to be done."

Aro nodded. "Of course. We will need to make our preparations, and this one—" he flicked a tiny glance in my direction, "—will need to be persuaded. But first I must know…."

It was hard to follow Aro's chaotic train of thought. And judging by the equally confused expressions on most of the vampires surrounding him, I was elated to find that for once, I was not alone in my pitiful struggle to keep up.

I looked to Edward for answers. But even though his telepathic gift gave him an incredible advantage, he could only guess one step ahead. He was just as blind as I was. At least, until the relevant thoughts crossed Aro's mind.

"…Is young Edward's  _attraction_ to Isabella going to be a problem?" Aro asked Alice.

His question came completely out of the blue. And it stunned me to the core. I knew of course that Marcus must have seen how much  _I_  was still attached to Edward. That despite my best efforts over the last seven months, I hadn't quite been able to sever the tie between us that Edward had so callously broken.

But Edward? Attracted to me?

No. It wasn't possible.  _He wouldn't have been able to leave. To say those awful things…_

_Aro must mean something else._

"Should we separate them?" Aro asked, his voice unexpectedly frantic.

His eyes suddenly flickered to Edward. And he looked ill-at-ease as he observed that Edward still had an arm wrapped around me in a grip that was almost crushing. It looked like he was worried that by staying near Edward I was somehow in danger. And, even more oddly, like he actually cared.

Aro swallowed uneasily, before looking back at Alice. "I would hate to have any  _accidents_ …"

Alice shook her head, cutting him off. "Bella will be fine."

Aro looked askance at her, like he found that very hard to believe. And Alice pouted.

"For now, anyway," she amended, her lips pursing sourly. "I'll let you know if that changes."

Now it was Aro's turn to shake his head—though he did so in disbelief. "It's just so difficult to understand, even now," Aro mused, his eyes boring curiously into Edward's. "How can you stand so close to her like that?"

Comprehension flickered on Edward's face briefly, before it was subsumed with anger. "It's not… without effort…" he ground out, his tone acidic.

Aro chuckled. "Yes, I can see that." Then his eyes turned to me, still alight with curiosity. "But still— _la tua cantante!_ What a waste!" he lamented, splaying a hand over his chest, and making a mock-stricken expression.

 _Cantante,_ I could have sworn I'd heard that word somewhere before. It was Italian, that was for sure.  _But what did it mean? Something about a song? A singer, maybe? And why was Aro using it to describe me?_

Edward barked out a small, humorless chuckle of his own. "I look at it more as price," he clarified darkly.

Aro regarded Edward skeptically. "A very high price."

Edward shrugged as though it was nothing. "Opportunity cost."

Aro's dubious expression lightened instantly, and he laughed. The sound was rich and resonant, like a church bell.

"If I had not smelled her through your memories, I would not have believe that the call of anyone's blood could be so strong. I've never felt anything like it myself," Aro confessed, sounding envious again, but also something else. Reverential, perhaps?

"Most of us would trade much for such a gift, and yet you…" Aro trailed off in undisguised disgust.

"Waste it," Edward finished bitterly.

My heart skipped a beat as I finally realized what the two men were talking about. They weren't talking about  _attraction_ in the romantic sense. Instead, they were talking about how my blood had some kind of special appeal to Edward, above all others. And how Aro thought it was "wasteful" of Edward not to partake when so many other vampires had never had the opportunity of meeting one who uniquely appealed to them that way.

I swallowed thickly and started to shake. The Volturi forcing Edward to eat me had not been among the many dark scenarios I'd envisioned on the way here.

While I wriggled in fear, Aro surprised us all by bursting, again, into unnerving laughter.

"I certainly never thought to see Carlisle bested for self-control of all things, but you put him to shame."

"Hardly." Edward sounded impatient, as if he was tired of the pleasantries.

His impatience made me more afraid. I couldn't help but try to imagine what horrible things he expected would follow. Though I wished I hadn't.

Aro sighed. "You may deny it, but I did not know before meeting you that such strength was possible. To inure yourself against such a siren call, not just once, but again, and again—if I had not felt it myself, I would not have believed."

Edward gazed back at Aro's admiration with no expression. Though I knew his face well enough—our seven months apart had not changed that—to guess at some emotion seething beneath the surface.

I fought to keep my breathing even.

In fact, I was so invested in trying to remain calm that I almost jumped out of my skin when Aro's eyes fell on me again. They raked over me in a manner I would have called "checking me out", if he were human, and I wasn't so damp and disorderly.

"Just remembering how she appeals to you…" Aro's eyes darkened, and strayed toward my neck. "It makes me thirsty."

Edward stiffened automatically, horrified by the hungry appraisal Aro was giving me.

And I shivered at the cruel images that Aro's words brought to my mind. Images of him biting into my neck. And feverishly slurping up the ensuing rush of blood.

But rather than lunging for my throat, Aro backed off, and held up two halting hands. "Do not be disturbed. I mean her no harm," he said in a placating tone. "But I am so curious, about one thing in particular."

Aro eyed me with bright interest. And suddenly I was thrust violently back into confusion again.

_Aro had already seen everything from Edward's thoughts. So what could he possibly still want to know that he didn't already? Were there things that someone's thoughts couldn't fully explain?_

I looked to Edward again for some kind of explanation. But Edward's lips were sealed. In fact, his only movement was to gouge the fingers wrapped protectively around me deeper into my side.

I bit my lower lip to keep myself from crying out. And I was sure I'd find dark purple finger prints there later. But despite the pain, I didn't dare try and break away from Edward now. I wasn't likely to succeed. And even if I did, being separated from my protector would be suicide.

Aro gave Edward a look that was almost pleading. "May I?" he asked eagerly, lifting one hand.

"Ask  _her,_ " Edward suggested in a flat voice.

"Of course, how rude of me!" Aro exclaimed. "Isabella," he addressed me directly now. And though I hated my full name I didn't dare correct him. "I'm fascinated that you are the one exceptions to Edward's impressive talent—so very interesting that such a thing should occur! And I was wondering, since our talents are similar in many ways, if you would be so kind as to allow me to try—to see if you are an exception for  _me_  as well?"

My eyes flashed up to Edward's face in terror. Despite Aro's overt politeness, I didn't believe I really had a choice. But I was horrified at the thought of allowing him to touch me. I remembered what Edward had said about Aro's powers—just one touch…

One tiny point of contact could mean surrendering everything to him. And I wasn't sure I was ready to take that plunge just yet. Or if I ever would be.

I looked to Edward for advice. And he nodded in encouragement—whether because he was sure Aro would not hurt me, or because there was not choice, I couldn't tell.

But there was no time to lose. Aro was bound to get impatient. So, taking a deep breath, I turned back to Aro and raised my hand slowly in front of me the way Alice had raised hers before.

I tried to look more confident than I felt. But my hand was trembling.

Aro glided closer then. And I believe he meant his expression to be reassuring. But his ancient, immortalized features were too unfamiliar, and his dark red eyes too frightening to reassure. And the look on his face was more confident than his words had been—he had no doubt that his powers would be just as effective this time as they had been every time before.

I fought not to quiver or flinch as he loomed closer. But it was hard not to.

Once he was only a foot away, Aro reached out, as if to shake my hand. But he didn't shake it. Instead, he grabbed it, pulled it in close to his chest. And wrapped both hands around it, pressing his fingers gently into mine.

I was surprised at the odd gesture. But I was even more surprised at what I felt when our skin collided. Aro's skin was the same texture as Edward's—hard and smooth like marble. But it was even colder than I expected. So cold, it almost burned to touch.

While I shivered, Aro's dark red eyes smiled down at me. And it was impossible to look away. They were mesmerizing in an odd, unpleasant way.

At least, at first.

Aro's face faltered as I watched. The confidence he'd worn so boldly before wavered and became first doubt, then incredulity, before it morphed into fascination. 

"So interesting," he said as he released my hand and drifted back.

The abrupt loss of contact was jarring. But even moreso was Aro's expression—something now torn between great excitement and deep pain. Despite those being at opposite ends of the emotional spectrum.

My eyes flickered to Edward for guidance— _what had Aro seen?_  But I was surprised at the expression I found on his face too. Though Edward was rather composed, I thought he seemed a little smug.

Aro continued to drift, his strange expression turning thoughtful. He was quiet for a moment, his eyes flickering between the three of us. Then, abruptly, he shook his head.

"A first," he said to himself, sounding impressed.

"I told you this would happen," Alice said—though her tone was matter-of-fact, rather than accusatory.

"Indeed," Aro acknowledged. "But of course I had to confirm it for myself.  _Never,_  in all three-thousand years of my existence have I met one whose mind I could not read…"

The crowd around us inhaled sharply. And I felt an acute rush of relief.  _So he can't hear my thoughts._

"Though," Aro tapped a finger to his chin ponderously. "I wonder if you are right about all of it? Is she immune to our other talents…? Jane, dear?"

Little Jane smiled up happily at Aro. "Yes Master?"

I wasn't sure what Aro was planning. But Edward suddenly glared at him with baleful eyes. "No!"

Alice grabbed Edward's arm with a restraining hand. But he shook her off. And now he was snarling—the sound ripping and tearing from him like a beast that couldn't be contained.

The room had gone still at the sound. And suddenly everyone was watching Edward with amazed disbelief, as if he were committing some embarrassing social faux pas. And a far worse one than a human talking out of turn, at that.

I wasn't sure what had Edward's hackles raised all of sudden. But whatever it was, Edward's sudden hunger for violence piqued the white-haired Caius' attention. He leaned forward in his throne, and settled his chin over his hands, to watch.

Felix also grinned hopefully and moved a step forward.

I tensed automatically. Though, thankfully, Aro glanced at Felix once. And he froze in place, his grin turning to a sulky expression.

Then Aro spoke to Jane. I could barely hear him over Edward's furious growls. "I was wondering, my dear one, if Isabella is immune to  _you_ ,"

_Immune to her? Wait…_

I was just starting to piece everything together then. But my human brain was too slow. And suddenly, everything around me was happening very fast.

Edward let go of me. And in a flash, he was in front of me, blocking me from Jane and Aro's view.

Then Jane turned toward us with a beatific smile.

And Alice cried, "Don't!" before Edward launched himself at the little girl.

I expected to hear the sounds of vampires grappling on the floor. The animalistic growls of battle. And the metal, scraping noise I'd only heard once before, while half delirious with pain—while Alice, Jasper and Emmett had ripped James to pieces before setting him on fire.

But I didn't hear any of that. Before I could react, before anyone could jump between them, before Aro's bodyguards could tense, Edward was on the ground.

No one had touched him. And yet, there he was on the stone floor, writhing in obvious agony.

I stared in horror.

Jane was smiling only at him now. And very suddenly that thought I hadn't quite been able to finish fell into place. And it all clicked together.

What Alice had said earlier about the Volturi having  _formidable gifts…._ Why everyone treated Jane with such deference…. And why Edward had thrown himself in her path before she could do that to me….

_Jane's power was to cause pain. Excruciating pain._

"Stop!" I shrieked, my voice echoing in the silence.

No one listened to me, of course. So I jumped forward to put myself between them—Aro had intended this power to be used on  _me_ after all.

But before I could get very far, Alice threw her arms around me in an unbreakable grasp. And ignored my struggles.

No sound escaped Edward's lips as he cringed against the stones. But he was wriggling like he was experiencing an electric shock. And it felt like my head would explode from the pain of watching.

"Jane," Aro recalled her in a tranquil voice.

She looked up quickly, still smiling with pleasure. But her eyes were now questioning. And as soon as Jane looked away, Edward was still.

Aro inclined his head toward me. And he didn't even have to say a word. Jane, knowing exactly what he wanted, turned her smile in my direction.

At first, I didn't even meet her gaze. I watched Edward from the prison of Alice's arms, still struggling pointlessly. He was laying on the stone floor, stiff as a corpse. And it was almost worse than when he'd been writhing.

"He's fine," Alice whispered in a tight voice, trying to get me to stop fidgeting.

It wouldn't have worked. Except that as Alice spoke, Edward sat up, and then sprang lightly to his feet, obviously uninjured. And seeing that made me relax instantly.

As Edward made his way back over to us, I looked at him and his lack of damage bewilderedly. After a few seconds, his eyes met mine, and they were horror-struck. At first, I thought the horror was for what he had just suffered—for the pain that left no marks. But then he looked quickly at Jane, and back to me—and his face relaxed into relief.

 _He really doesn't want me to go through that pain too,_ I realized.  _I guess he still cares about me that much._

I looked at Jane finally, wondering why she hadn't hit me with it yet. But when my eyes found hers, I noticed she no longer smiled. Instead, she glared at me. And her jaw was clenched furiously with the intensity of her focus.

She was obviously  _trying_  to use her powers. But for whatever reason, they weren't affecting me yet.

I shrank back, waiting for the pain. But nothing happened.

Edward was by my side again. He touched Alice's arm, and she surrendered me back to him. But I was too absorbed in what Jane's face was doing to pay any attention.

It grew more and more tense with every second that I didn't fall to the ground and start jerking in agony. And just when I was certain she was going to burst a vein, Aro started to laugh.

"How extraordinary!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

Jane hissed in frustration, leaning forward, like she was preparing to spring. But Aro stopped her by placing a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Do not be put out, my dear," Aro said in a comforting tone. "She confounds us all."

Jane's upper lip curled back over her teeth. And she continued to glare at me. Though of course, it did nothing.

Aro chortled again, and released his hand, before looking back in our direction. "You're very brave, Edward, to endure in silence. I asked Jane to do that to me once—just out of curiosity." He shook his head in admiration.

Edward glared, disgusted.

Aro then fixed his gaze on me. "It seems Alice was right about your abilities. But that is both good, and grave news," he said rather obliquely. Then sighed. "And I am not sure what we should do with you now."

Alice frowned. And Edward tensed. This was the part he'd been waiting for.

I began to tremble.  _So this is the part where I die. Right?_

"I do not suppose there is any chance you have changed your mind?" Aro asked Edward hopefully. "Your talent would be an excellent addition to our little company."

I stiffened. I hadn't been expecting that.

Apparently, Edward hadn't been expecting that either. He hesitated. And from the corner of my eye I saw both Felix and Jane grimace. Though I wasn't sure why.  _Was someone else using their powers on him, and I wasn't aware of it?_

Edward seemed to weigh each word before he spoke it. "I'd… rather not…"

Aro raised his eyebrows. "And you, Isabella?"

Edward hissed low, in my ears. But I just stared at Aro blankly.  _Was he joking? Me? A Volturi?_

It was Caius who broke the silence. "What?" he demanded of Aro.

"Caius, surely you see the potential," Aro chided him affectionately. "I have not seen a prospective talent so promising since we found Jane and Alec. Can you imagine the possibilities when she is one of us?"

Jane's eyes sparked with indignation at the comparison. And Caius looked away with a caustic expression. I think he even rolled his eyes, as though this was a "typical Aro behavior" which he found particularly irritating.

Meanwhile, Edward fumed beside me. I could hear a rumble in his chest, building toward a growl. And I felt desperate to stop him from letting his temper get him hurt.

"Wait… so I'm not just a fluke?" I asked. That's what I'd always assumed. "You think I have some kind of… super power?"

Aro nodded. "No one before you has been able to thwart my gifts. Or for that matter, Jane's…"

I was stricken then with a horrible idea. But right now it was my only option.

"Then would you let him go?" I demanded of Aro, pointing to Edward. Though my voice was frail with fright. "Would you let him live? If I joined you?"

Aro's face lit up, like his birthday had come early.

But before he could say anything, Caius scoffed.

I gritted my teeth together. "If I died then?" I challenged, since that seemed to be what he wanted.

Aro looked at me with curious surprise. "You would be willing to give your life for one of us?" He gestured to himself. "A soulless, monster?"

I made an indignant noise in the back of my throat. "You don't know a thing, about his soul."

Aro raised his other eyebrow, and looked like he was about to say something. But then, Edward spoke up suddenly, cutting us both off.

"Join or die, is that it?" Edward hissed. "I suspected as much when we were brought to this room. So much for your  _laws_."

The tone of his voice surprised me. He sounded irate and sarcastic. But there was something deliberate about his delivery—as if he'd chosen his words with great care.

Aro blinked, astonished. "Of course not. We were already convened here, Edward, awaiting Heidi's return. Not for you."

Edward stiffened at the mention of Heidi's name. And I wondered if she was another vampire with formidable gifts. Another one Edward didn't want to try their powers on me.

Or maybe something even worse.

Caius shot Aro a dagger-like glare. "Aro," he interjected, clearly tired of beating around the bush. "The law claims them."

Edward glanced at Caius. "How so?" he demanded. He must have known what Caius was thinking, but he seemed determined to make him speak it aloud.

Caius pointed a skeletal finger at me. "She knows too much. You have exposed our secrets."

"There are a few humans in on your charade here as well," Edward reminded him, and I thought of the receptionist below.

Caius' face twisted into a new expression. Was it supposed to be a smile? "Yes," he agreed. "But when they are no longer useful to us, they will serve to  _sustain_  us."

I shuddered at the images that conjured. So I had been right. Gianna's time was limited.

"That is not your plan for this one," Caius added, pointing to me. "If she betrays our secrets, are you prepared to destroy her?" He scoffed at the idea. "I think not."

"I wouldn't—" I tried to protest. But Caius silenced me with an icy look.

"Nor do you intend to make her one of us," Caius continued. "Therefore, she is a vulnerability. Though it is true, for this, only  _her_  life is forfeit. You may leave if you wish."

Edward bared his teeth and hunkered into a crouch. He wasn't going anywhere.

"That's what I thought," Caius said, with something akin to pleasure.

And then, Caius, leapt up suddenly from his seat. As he rose to his full, towering height, he fisted his hands tightly at his sides. And then at once, he began descending the dais steps toward me, his predatory intentions clear.

Automatically, I ducked. Even though I knew it would do nothing to protect me.

And for a fraction of a second Felix looked like he wanted to protest. He had called dibs, after all.

But before either of them could do anything further, Aro held up a forbidding hand. Which quelled any of Felix's desire to speak. And thankfully stilled the snowy-haired vampire in his tracks.

"Brother, there is no need to be hasty," Aro said with a hint of irritation in his voice.

If possible, Caius' face grew even sourer. Though he remained where he was, half-way down the dais steps.

"What use is there in delaying?" he rebutted. "The girl knows what we are, and is not scheduled to become immortal. Therefore—"

At once, Caius resumed his progress down the stairs, and made his way toward us. His expensive black robes billowed menacingly around him. And his expression—lips pulled back to expose as much of his teeth as possible—was one of savage glee.

"If you would allow me to demonstrate the proper method of disposing of liabilities…"

Caius red eyes—eyes that looked slightly darker and hungrier than the others'—fixated on me, then.

Well, on my neck. Which was probably as good as I was going to get.

I wanted a sign. "Eyes up here!" I was tired of being looked at like a piece of meat.

Oblivious to my discomfort, Caius continued to leer, his eyes scraping over me slowly and painfully like fingernails against chalkboard. And after giving me a thorough once-over, he licked his lips thirstily.

Alice, face awash with fresh horror, looked ready to leap to my defense.

And Aro, who didn't miss it, immediately reinforced his two-handed, forbidding gesture. "That will not be necessary, Caius"

Caius scowled, but obediently stopped his progress. And as he halted I couldn't help but feel like Aro and Caius were playing a rather morbid version of Red-light/Green-light. And I was the prize waiting at the end.

"Do you plan to do the deed yourself then?" Caius questioned callously. "If you are worried about not having a taste, I am willing to share…."

I shuddered violently when I realized what Caius was offering. And then I froze in absolute horror.

Caius' jaw had twisted into a sadistic smile at my fearful reaction. He was  _enjoying_  this.

Every muscle in my body screamed at me to  _run_. But I knew that would only serve to hasten my demise. Caius was certain to take my pathetic attempt to flee as bait to begin the hunt.

Aro briefly looked flattered by his brother's offer. I guessed the white-haired vampire was usually more possessive of his food. But at long last he shook his head.

"No." Aro was adamant, a fact for which I was very grateful. "Alice brought us the girl. And I cannot argue with what she as seen. There are  _crises_ ahead of us. And Isabella will be an invaluable asset to us in those times."

"Well, provided you don't kill her," Alice contributed sourly.

Aro made a "what-did-I-tell-you?" gesture toward Caius. But the snow-haired vampire remained unmoved.

"You still trust Alice?" Caius snarled. He clearly didn't. "After she abandoned us without warning, and has fed  _disgracefully_  these past six decades?"

Caius gestured harshly in the direction of Alice's topaz eyes. And I realized with no small degree of shock that he took offense to them. Much the same way I took offense to his red ones.

I couldn't imagine what anyone—human or vampire—could possibly find offensive about  _not killing anyone_. But Caius clearly seemed to believe that a vampire refusing their innate desire for human blood was not just unreasonable, or unpalatable, but  _unconscionable._

"Alice, no doubt, only did what she had to in order to blend in," Aro explained patiently, trying to sooth Caius' affronted morals. "And I am certain now that she is back, she will not object to resuming her  _natural_  diet."

I shivered at Aro's casual allusion to human slaughter.

But Alice didn't even blink.

"Not at all," she chirped happily.

My heart plummeted in my chest.  _Not at all? Not even a little? Alice really didn't care about human life? She was completely willing—eager even—to go back to a diet of human blood?_

 _Had all of her commitments to Carlisle's beliefs been nothing more than a clever ruse, then?_ I thought, panicking at the idea.  _Or was she lying now, to keep Caius' temper sedated?_

Alice, I was displeased to learn, was a flawless liar. Even in her thoughts. And I hated not knowing what she really meant.

"And your companion?" Caius challenged, pointing one hard white finger towards Edward.

"Well," Alice began a bit sheepishly. "He and I don't exactly see eye to eye on that…"

"The doctor has brainwashed him," Caius declared flatly.

Alice shrugged dispassionately. "I guess you could say that."

"And the girl is his?"

Caius briefly looked at Edward. And then he was staring at my neck again.

_Oh come on._

Alice sighed. "Unfortunately, for now, yes."

Aro, who was starting to look unhappy with the way the conversation had gone, interrupted. "It is true the law claims her for now, unless…"

Aro gave Edward a meaningful look, one that let me know he was asking a silent question.

But Edward wasn't having any of it. "No."

Aro inhaled in shock. "No?"

"No," Edward repeated firmly.

Aro made no effort to hide his disbelief. "You will not even consider…?"

"No!" Edward snapped. "I will not—and stop thinking about!" he demanded, pressing his free hand against one temple as if just hearing Aro's thoughts about the matter were injuring his psyche.

"Everything is just fine the way it is!" Edward continued to bellow. "And I am  _not_  going to let you, or anyone—" he shot a dark look at Alice, "—mess things up!"

Aro slid back a few inches in surprise. "Are you… shouting at me, Edward?" he asked, sounding truly astonished and even a little hurt. "Tsk, tsk. I asm certain I recall Carlisle teaching you better manners."

He said this reproachfully. And wagged his index finger back and forth like he was scolding a child.

Edward, who evidently did  _not_  appreciate being treated so condescendingly, clenched his teeth. And looked nauseated all of sudden.

"I don't care what you do to me. But I won't let her become a vampire."

He said the words with such assurance, such finality.

I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach.

_Was my immortality really such a loathsome idea? Was I so unbearably annoying that it made Edward physically sick to think of me existing forever? Even if he'd already resolved to stay far, far away?_

I couldn't be sure if I was on to something or not. But suddenly, the gaping hole in my chest that Edward's absence had created—the one our reunion had healed—burst open again with a vengeance.

I gasped in audible pain as the wound reopened. I had almost forgotten how much it hurt.

But I was a fool to think that anything had changed. Edward had been very clear about his intentions those seven months ago. And, like an idiot, I'd let myself hope, when he'd kissed my hair, and held my hand, that there was still something there, some small spark.

And now all of my hopes and dreams were being dashed to pieces again.  _Edward didn't want me._

Edward gritted his teeth before he went on. "She was supposed to stay out of this. Stay human. Stay alive. I never wanted her to…"

"Kill herself because you left?" Aro prompted. Though he didn't sound sarcastic. In fact, he made this statement with an impressive amount of delicacy. And it was clear, from the little frown marring his aristocratic features that he was, at the very least, sympathetic to Edward's pain.

" _Never_ ," Edward growled, tightening his grip around me slightly. "You know how I feel about her."

I wasn't sure what Edward meant.  _What did he feel about me? Guilt? Obligation? Annoyance?_

But Aro nodded, understanding, and seemed to take all of this into consideration. He tapped his chin in deep thought, and glanced at a few key people in the room—Marcus, Alice, Edward, Me—before he continued.

"I do," Aro acknowledged slowly, before giving me a careful look out of the corner of his eye. "Though you seem to have given Isabella a rather different idea—tragic, really. And to make matters even worse, you have neglected to impart a most important truth—"

Edward cut Aro off with extreme prejudice. "You better not tell her."

Aro shook his head, and gave a little exasperated sigh. "I do not see why you will not. Not when you have already shared all of our other secrets with her."

I stiffened in Edward's grip. Aro didn't sound particularly pleased by that fact.

"Secrets she has no right to know," Caius piped in from where he stood—only a few feet away. His voice sounded like icicles, cold and sharp. And his gaze on me wasn't any more forgiving.

I shuddered.

Aro held up a hand to silence Caius. "Hush, brother."

Caius obeyed immediately. But shortly thereafter he petulantly crossed his arms and wore a sulky expression. He reminded me of a child that had been denied candy. And if my self-preservation hadn't kicked in at the most opportune moment, I might have laughed at the idea.

Instead, I gulped. And tried to listen intently to what Edward and Aro were saying.

Aro was trying to reason with the younger vampire. "Really, Edward if she is to become one of us, it would be cruel to not inform her—"

"She! Isn't! Going! To! Be! A! Vampire!" Edward bit out.

I looked expectantly toward Alice, whose impassive expression had not faltered once throughout this entire exchange. I hoped that maybe she could clue me in—share some of whatever made her so tranquil in these tense moments.

But she didn't say anything.

And once I realized no amount of puppy-dog-eyed looks were going to change that, I turned back to face Aro and Edward. And chewed nervously on my lower lips as I watched their confrontation unfold.

Both of Aro's black eyebrows were raised in shock now. And his dull crimson eyes were wide, and unbelieving. "You do not intend to tell her, then."

He sounded deeply upset by this idea. He even wrung his hands. And his normally smooth forehead crumpled with concern.

"Our lovely Isabella, is never to know?"

My head shot up at that.

"What?"

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the greatest. So enjoy!

CHAPTER THREE: LIES

…

_I'm a good liar, Bella._

_I have to be._

\- Edward, New Moon, Chapter 23

…

My mind surged wildly, trying to wrap my head around what was going on. Apparently Aro thought there was something huge Edward was hiding from me. Something that maybe he'd been hiding for a long time.

I didn't want to believe that. And I knew it was silly to trust Aro over Edward when I hardly knew him. But I did have to admit that I hadn't seen Edward in seven months. And a lot of things could change in that amount of time.

_Maybe Edward had done as he had told me he would, and sought other, uh,_ _**distractions** _ _, while we were apart?_

But upon honest reflection, that didn't seem so bad. We had effectively broken up that day in the forest. So him seeing someone else wasn't exactly a crime.

Even if the idea cut through me like a rusty knife.

Shaking away that thought, I tried repeating my question. But Edward did his best to ignore me.

"I'm warning you, Aro," Edward threatened. "One more word and I'll—"

"You would dare to fight me?" Aro interrupted, making no effort to hide his shock.

Aro's two female bodyguards stiffened at his side, instantly battle-ready. But the man himself remained perplexingly unworried.

"In my own domain?" Aro asked like the idea was patently ridiculous.

And really it was. As I surveyed the crowd of vampires in the room, I realized that every last one—perhaps even including Alice—would leap to Aro's defense if Edward so much as laid a finger on the older vampire. And thirty-or-so vampires versus one, was hardly a fair fight.

But Edward wasn't messing around. His fists were clenched determinedly at his sides. And the only fear in his bottomless, black eyes was a psychological fear—namely the fear that Aro would tell me something I wasn't meant to know.

The caution I'd sensed in him when he was preparing to fight Felix before was gone. He no longer cared whether he would make it out of this battle alive.

Fear pulsed through my veins. But thankfully, Aro gave Edward one last chance to back down.

"Please Edward, let us be reasonable about this," he urged the younger vampire. "You cannot possibly hope to win."

But Edward didn't adjust his stance, not even slightly. Instead, he grinned morbidly. "I don't plan to."

Aro heaved an enormous sigh. And with obvious reluctance, made preparations to defend himself.

My heartrate picked up exponentially when I saw this. And my breathing turned shallow and ragged as I watched Aro's bodyguards fan out defensively.

There was no way this could end well.

Especially not since Edward's right arm was once again secured firmly around my waist. And I could hardly avoid being caught in the crossfire in my current position.

Edward seemed to realize this at the same moment that I did. And at last he relinquished his crushing grip on me.

The movement was so sudden, I nearly lost my balance. But Alice, who knew all-too-well how clumsy I was, was there in a flash to steady me.

I thanked her silently, before turning back to the unfolding conflict. I couldn't take it anymore.

"Wait, what are you guys talking about?" I blurted out. I was at the end of my rope.

To my relief, both Edward and Aro froze instantly. And rather than claw at each other's throats, they turned to look curiously at me.

But they were not the only ones to react. A low chorus of gasps issued from several of the vampires around me after my exclamation. Gasps that sounded deeply appalled.

I struggled not to scream in frustration. Apparently, demanding to know anything as a human was a particularly grievous social faux pas in the vampire world—this was the second time they'd reacted this way. But I didn't give one solitary shit. I was pretty sure my death was already assured in some form or another. And it wasn't like I was going to get any answers otherwise.

"Impertinent mortal, asking impertinent questions," Caius muttered darkly under his breath.

"Shh, brother," Aro instructed, pressing one finger to his lips. "Let the girl speak."

Everyone's eyes flickered to Aro in astonishment, surprised that he was giving me so much leeway. Then suddenly they were on me again—all thirty-odd pairs of them.

I struggled not to hyperventilate under all of their baleful, red-eyed glares. And when I spoke again, my voice wavered with obvious fright. And my knees shook hard enough to register on a Richter scale.

"Edward, he's… been k-keeping a secret from me?" I asked, avoiding everyone's—and especially Aro's piercing gaze.

"Bella…" Edward cautioned, his tone pleading. "You really don't want to know."

My face flushed with fury.  _I don't want to know? How was Edward supposed to know that?_

"And since when did  _you_  get to decide how _I_  feel?" I asked indignantly, the fear rapidly leaving my body to be replaced with white-hot anger. "Aren't I supposed to decide that for myself?"

My feistiness seemed to amuse Aro, whose thin lips twisted into a wide, proud smile. "I like her," he told Alice, who smiled faintly herself.

"Aren't  _I_ supposed to choose?" I challenged Edward again, standing up straighter, and finally daring to look him in the eyes.

Edward was the picture of hurt. His lower lip wavered with emotion. And his obsidian eyes even grew a little foggy with welled-up venom—the vampire equivalent of crying. But I didn't feel any pity for him. Not right now.

He didn't just get to decide what was good for me, and what wasn't. I was an adult,  _goddamnit!_ And he wasn't my parent!

"Not when it comes to this," Edward said, urging me to believe him. "You'll just have to trust me."

I gave him a dubious once-over.  _Trust him?_

"I'm not sure I can do that," I admitted, surprising even myself.

I'd trusted him so easily before. But with Alice being a secret agent, and with how unreasonable Edward was being, I wasn't in a particularly trusting mood.

"Not when you're not telling me something."

Edward swallowed and looked mournfully the other way. "Bella, please," he croaked. "Don't…"

"I'm sorry, Edward," I said. Though I wasn't. Not really. "But I need to know."

I twisted around then to face Aro. "Will you tell me?"

Edward's black eyes grew to the size of saucers. "Bella, no!" he shouted, lurching forward to restrain me.

But just as quickly as Edward lunged, Aro gave Felix and Demetri—the closest of his lackeys—some imperceptible cue. And immediately after receiving their master's signal, the two vampires rushed in to intercept Edward before he could get even ten inches closer. Or could close his fingers around my wrist.

A loud  _thump_  reverberated through the castle turret as Felix's hulking body collided with Edward. I think he wrapped his powerful arms wrapped around Edward's torso. And Demetri restrained Edward's legs. Before they both hauled Edward backward.

But it all happened so fast. All I saw was two black blurs moving toward Edward. And then suddenly the three of them were ten feet behind me, snarling and struggling.

I heard labored grunts and more  _thumping_ sounds. And I was about to turn around and see what was happening, when I was distracted by Aro clucking in disapproval.

"I understand you believe that you are protecting her, Edward, but really hiding  _this_ particular truth from Isabella does nothing but harm her," Aro asserted confidently. "Wouldn't you agree, Alice?"

"Of course," she answered brightly.

"And will  _you_  tell me?" I asked, with an obvious note of longing.

Alice, who looked very much like she did want to tell me, looked to Aro for approval.

"I do not see why not," he told her kindly. "Isabella deserves to know."

"No!" Edward screamed, thrashing once again against the restraining limbs of his captors. "You can't tell her!"

"Oh for Pete's sake, Edward!" Alice exclaimed, clearly fed up with her brother's antics. "You're not helping!"

Edward's expression darkened and… was that  _guilt_  that flickered in his eyes?

"Maybe you're right," Edward allowed. "But she can't know, she wouldn't understand," he insisted, his voice frantic now. "She might jump to the wrong conclusions about us, and about you."

Aro chuckled and shook his head. "The  _wrong_  conclusions... Such a distorted perspective you have."

Edward gritted his teeth. " _You're_  the one who's  _distorted_!" he growled. "Baiting your secretaries with promises of eternal life, and never delivering."

Edward made a caustic sound in the back of his throat. "You  _disgust_ me."

Aro raised his perfect black eyebrows. Then sighed. "You would rather she died?"

Alice tensed immediately, a low, animalistic sound tearing through her. She obviously didn't want me dead. Which was good, I guess.

But Aro waved her off with a gesture that seemed to say he was only speaking hypothetically.

Edward's teeth snapped together and sloshed with venom. "I would kill you before you could even—"

"No," Aro interrupted, clearly exasperated. "To be brutally honest, you would lunge for me, I would snap my fingers, and you would die. Simple as that."

Edward glowered at Aro. But didn't disagree. He probably knew Aro was right. With how many vampires Aro had at his beck and call—and how many with special talents at that—Edward didn't stand a chance.

"But luckily for you, I am feeling  _generous_  today," Aro said, forcing a smile. "Alice would prefer if you remained alive. And I must admit I am rather excited about the prospect of seeing your face when Isabella denounces your way of life entirely…"

Aro's face flashed with a cruel smirk.

And Edward exhaled in horror. "No. That can't happen."

"If you are so sure, then why don't you tell her the truth yourself?" Aro prompted, directing a hand at me. "She is still under your charge, according to our laws…"

Aro looked a little sour about that last bit.

Edward shook his head vehemently. At least, as vehemently as he could manage while he was locked in the powerful grip of two battle-trained vampires.

"Bella can't know," he asserted. "She's young and naïve. She has no idea what's good for herself. She's not very bright, acts on impulse, and is a huge magnet for danger," he ranted, shaking as he spoke. "If you tell her, she'll make a mistake that will permanently mess up her life."

There was a reverberating silence at his words. And I wasn't alone in my gape-mouthed, stupor. Every vampire in the room looked shocked.

Though I guessed they were probably more astonished that Edward hadn't drank my insanely delectable blood yet, if he truly had such a low opinion of me. And a few murmured mentions of that Italian word— _cantante—_ corroborated my theory.

I gulped.

It always came back to this, didn't it?

As I tried to calm my racing heart—I figured it wasn't a good idea to have my blood pumping too fast when thirty or more vampires had  _cantante_ on the brain—I tried to reason it out. There was a good possibility that Edward was just saying those hurtful things to protect me.

But it was also painfully obvious that, to some degree, that was how he actually perceived me:  _untrustworthy, young, naïve, unintelligent…_

And while I couldn't disagree with a lot of what he had said—I  _was_  only eighteen and an enormous hazard-attractant—I felt that his less-than-adulatory words about my wisdom and intelligence were unnecessarily rude. He was basically trying to reduce me to a child. To convince Aro that I was not mentally or emotionally mature enough to make my own decisions.

And that hurt.

Again, I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach. I was surprised I didn't have physical bruises. The emotional blows I was receiving today were too much.

While I visibly reeled, Aro's gaze flickered dubiously towards Marcus. I guessed he was probably curious as to how our emotional bonds were faring, given Edward's recent, hurtful rant.

Marcus, who still looked more bored than should be humanly possible, sighed in resignation before rising from his chair and floating back to Aro's side. When he reached his destination, Aro snatched his dark hand up greedily, drinking in the memories with closed eyes and a wide grin. And then, as suddenly as he'd grabbed the appendage, he let Marcus' hand go.

While Marcus lazily meandered back to his seat, Aro sought out another face—that of a young woman with light-brown hair. I wasn't sure what he wanted her for, what  _formidable gift_  she possessed. But she, in sharp contrast with Marcus, wore an intense expression of deep concentration. Like she was trying to unscrew a lightbulb with only her mind.

And maybe she was. Hell, if I knew.

"Is it possible Chelsea?" Aro asked the woman quietly. "Or are they still too tightly bound?"

"No," the woman responded coolly. "As I'm sure Marcus showed you, their bonds are weakening as we speak. Soon I'll be able to…"

But the woman, Chelsea, didn't say what she would soon be able to do. She merely gave Aro a meaningful look, and resumed her all-important concentration. Though this time, I could swear she was staring directly at me.

I wasn't sure why she was doing that. And I didn't feel any different because of it.

Except, well… I did feel a bit angrier with Edward. All of sudden, all of the many times Edward had dismissed my capabilities seemed to stand out in my mind. Every time he'd said I was too weak, too stupid, too clumsy, not good enough…

There were a lot, I was stunned to recall. And I seethed, just thinking about it.

_How dare he ever claim to love me when this is what he really thinks of me!_

The fury I felt was abruptly acute. I felt like my heart was on fire.

And then, just as suddenly, like dross melting away from silver, all of the confusing and contradictory feelings I had felt for Edward during the last seven months, and especially during these last few hours, flushed away. And one thing finally became painfully clear.

I was no longer in love with Edward Cullen.

I was surprised by how much that knowledge didn't hurt. When I was finally ready to admit this, I had always expected to feel a lot more sorrow. And maybe to even feel trapped, limited by the options—like an immortality with Edward—that were no longer available to me.

But that couldn't be further from the truth. Acknowledging that I no longer loved Edward was the most liberating experience of my life. Instantly afterward, euphoria flooded my being. No longer was my existence chained to another. No longer was I attached to a monster that deep down only wanted to eat me. I could almost hear the shackles linking me to him jangling uselessly to the ground.

I was free!

I still wanted the best for Edward. And I most certainly didn't want him to die. But I knew that even if all past grievances were forgiven, the most emotion I would be able to muster would be a sisterly affection towards him.

I thought it was a little strange that the shift was so fast. And later, I would learn why. But in the moment I didn't suspect anything.

_What did Edward and I have in common to build a foundation of love on anyway?_ I thought, surprised it hadn't ever really occurred to me before.  _Our mutual love of kissing?_

I frowned. And while my lips turned down, Chelsea—who was still staring at me, her dark red eyes fixed and unblinking—smiled and finally looked away.

"It's done, Master," she told Aro softly, before melting back into the crowd.

Aro nodded, looking pleased.

And Edward, who knew exactly what had occurred, snarled in protest. "You're manipulating her! Destroying our connection!"

Aro scoffed at the accusation. "You know as well as I do that Chelsea cannot break that which is not already moribund, and cannot strengthen that which does not exist. Your connection with Isabella, strong as it may have once been, was already dying," he asserted.

"Impossible!" Edward protested.

But Aro wasn't having any of it. "Your abandonment of Isabella those seven months ago already guaranteed that her feelings for you would die. In fact, while she still cherished you, and probably always will, prior to our meeting Isabella was already well on her way toward giving you up."

I inhaled in shock. But Aro was right. Until Alice had rather abruptly come back into my life I  _had_ been getting better. Jacob was helping a lot with my depression. And if Edward hadn't interrupted us with his rather untimely phone call, Jacob and I might have kissed…

And that surely would have been the end of any love I had for Edward.

"Your relationship was already forfeited," Aro explained, like he was speaking to a child. "Chelsea simply sped up the process a little."

_Sped up the process? Wait, so that had been her?_

I shouldn't have been surprised. Jasper couldn't be the only vampire with the power to mess with emotions—and I was not immune to his gifts. But I was stunned that Chelsea had been able to alter my heart so deeply.

Jasper could only influence what I was feeling at the moment, so even if he could make me angry at Edward for a while, it would eventually wear off. It wouldn't be permanent. But it seemed Chelsea's power did not have the same limitations.

As I marveled at Chelsea's strength, I tried to feel angry about the violation. About having my emotional ties to Edward severed by an outside force.

_Shouldn't I have been allowed to fall out of love with Edward on my own?_

But if I really thought about it, I had known for quite some time that Edward was never going to love me back the way I wanted to be loved. Hell, I'd been trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to get over him for seven months now. And so this freedom from my crippling affections for him actually made a lot more sense than continuing to hopelessly pine for him.

In fact, I almost wanted to thank Chelsea.

Though, I refrained at the last second. I suspected she and Aro had an ulterior motive. I hardly believed they would liberate me from the tangled web of my attachment to Edward just out of the goodness of their hearts.

No, there had to be another reason. And maybe it even had to do with another part of the multi-faceted secret Edward had been laboring so hard and for so long to keep from me.

While I tried to figure it out, Caius interrupted again.

"What is this?" he demanded frostily. "You have used Chelsea's power on the girl?"

His tone was acrid with disbelief. The sharpness of it sent icy shivers down my spine. And caused a few of vampires nearest to their snowy-haired leader to straighten in mild terror.

But Aro was utterly unmoved.

I guessed he must be used to it.

"You question Aro's decision?" came a lazy voice, from behind Caius. And when I turned toward the sound I was surprised to find that Marcus had finally decided to speak. I was beginning to believe he had given up the ghost, for all that he had moved in the past several minutes.

Caius' pale features mirrored my shock for half a second. Apparently Marcus wasn't usually vocal. Then he stood and wheeled viciously to face Marcus.

"She already knows too much," he hissed. "Why should we waste our precious time and talents to tell her anymore? She is a liability."

Aro frowned. "Perhaps for now," he reluctantly allowed.

"For now?" Caius scoffed, turning back to Aro. "It is  _obvious_  that the boy never intends for her to be one of us. And our rules clearly state—"

Aro held up a forbidding hand, cutting him off. "I am well aware of our rules, Caius. Do not think I have forgotten them."

"But you have. What other explanation is there?" Caius demanded. "She must change or  _die._ Those have been our traditions for millennia. But though it seems transformation is off the table, yet, you protect her. You protect a  _human_ …" he gagged, as though the mere thought disgusted him. "You've grown  _soft_  Aro."

Now it was Aro's turn to scoff. "Hardly. Alice has simply shown me that it would be in our best interests if Isabella were changed, rather than killed."

Caius made an irritated noise. "But who will change her, if the boy refuses? You?"

Aro grinned, his white teeth gleaming ferociously in neat white rows. "If I must."

Instantly, I was reminded of Alice's words on the plane.  _Actually, Bella, honestly, I think it's all gotten beyond ridiculous. I'm debating whether to just change you myself._

It seemed like Aro was on a similar wavelength—that I needed to be changed as soon as possible.

I shouldn't have felt a rush of elation at the idea. And instantly I suspected Chelsea. But she wasn't looking at me anymore. So it appeared my traitorous feelings were my own.

I guess I really wanted immortality that badly. Though, in the absence of a chance with Edward, I wasn't sure why I should want that anymore. On the plane, I'd been hoping to use my newfound immortality to chase Edward across the ends of the earth until he finally accepted that we were meant to be together. But now, after Chelsea's interference, of course, that wasn't going to happen.

But maybe immortality was just the logical thing to want after having been around vampires for as long as I had. The did have rather enviable qualities—longevity, beauty, strength, power… And really what more could a girl ask for?

While I pondered my future as a vampire, Aro cast a cautionary glare toward Caius. He was warning him to stand down or else risk being brutally torn apart by both him and Alice.

There was a curt second of silence, during which the two ancient vampires stared each other down. Then finally, Caius turned away in a huff, his black cloak swirling angrily around him. And threw himself down again on his throne.

Alice watched with worry as Caius sat, afraid that he might lash out again. And I too felt uneasy as I saw him cross his arms impetuously over his lean chest.

Seeing my apparent agitation out of the corner of his eye, Aro turned to face me. And his stern, warning expression immediately melted into a soft smile. "I will not allow him harm you."

I felt myself nodding. And I was somewhat stunned to discover that I completely trusted Aro's promise. He  _would_  protect me—no matter what. Though, for what purpose, beyond some vague impression that he liked my immunity to his powers, I knew not.

"You are too important," Aro effused.

Though Caius obviously disagreed. He snorted, then angled his nose towards the ceiling, as though everyone else in this castle turret was no longer worthy of his regard.

I blinked, confused. "Important?"

Aro pressed a finger to his lips. "Shhh… One thing at a time, my dear Isabella, one thing at a time. I promise we will tell you everything eventually," he placated, his voice low, and pouring seductively, like honey, over his lips.

"But let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?" he suggested charmingly. "First, I suppose I should finally tell you what this—" he gestured between Edward and me, "—is all about."

I nodded enthusiastically. I had waited long enough.

But Edward just wasn't going to give it up. He bucked furiously against the arms of his captors. And screamed so loud it echoed off the high, brick walls

"You can't tell her! I won't let you!"

Aro made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. And his pleasant expression momentarily soured.

"If you won't allow us to speak, Edward, why don't  _you_  enlighten, the dear girl?" he suggested acridly, to everyone's surprise. "She  _will_ find out the truth eventually. Whether _you_  tell her or not."

"Fine, I'll tell her," Edward relented. Though his eyes blazed, furious at being forced into this. "At least that way, she won't get the wrong idea."

"Oh I think Isabella is intelligent enough to come to the right conclusions herself," Aro remarked cheerily. "Wouldn't you agree, Alice?"

Alice bobbed her head enthusiastically. And for the first time in a long while I felt a surge of warmth shoot through my being. I still wasn't sure how much I trusted her, given recent revelations. But it was nice to know that at least  _someone_  trusted me.

I was determined not to let her down.

"Where should I begin, Alice?" Edward asked, his voice lifeless and resigned.

Alice's perfect, painted lips bent into a ponderous frown. "Hmm, how about at the beginning, with Carlisle?" she suggested. "I think it will make the most sense that way."

"But…" Edward began to protest.

Alice clicked her tongue in disapproval. "No buts, Edward!"

"Fine," Edward growled, his expression heavy with gloom. Then he heaved a deep, melodramatic sigh. "Bella, do you know the story of how Carlisle discovered our unusual diet?" he asked slowly, deliberately.

I blinked a few times at the unexpected question. Then I considered it for a moment, my forehead wrinkling in concentration.

Certainly I had been told the story. But I was at a complete loss as to how it was relevant.

Just as slowly as Edward had asked the question, I responded. "…I remember that his father was a priest in the 1600s who hunted vampires, and that Carlisle was training in his footsteps."

I decided to keep my tone neutral and stick to the facts. Any emotional interpretation of events could be saved for later. Especially, given our present company—some of whom, judging by Caius' reaction—thought drinking animal blood was akin to sin.

"Carlisle stumbled on a coven living in the sewers and was attacked," I went on. "They… er… left him alive, but just barely. And when Carlisle came to his senses as a vampire, rather than drink human blood, he tried to commit suicide."

Edward frowned at my vivid recollection of the story. I sensed he'd been hoping to buy some time by re-telling it. But there was no way, even with my abysmal human memory, that I could forget this story. It was too important.

I remembered Carlisle's grave expression when he'd first told me the tale. And how he'd clutched his hand over his heart when he'd spoken of his fears for his soul now that he was transformed.

I was initially planning on skipping over that part. It seemed overwhelmingly inappropriate to discuss something as deeply personal as Carlisle's spiritual turmoil in front of such a large audience of strangers.

But I soon realized it was integral to the story. I couldn't leave out Carlisle's fears about the welfare of his soul. Because it was his extreme religious determination to retain a clean conscience that had compelled him to seek out alternatives to human blood in the first place.

I took a deep breath, and kept going. "Because of what Carlisle was taught in his human life, he believed that being a vampire made him soulless… damned…"

Aro looked sympathetic all of sudden. And I wondered if he was remembering the feelings I was describing, from the memories he'd obtained from Carlisle when they'd lived together three-hundred years ago. It was highly possible.

Refocusing on the present, I finished relating Carlisle's tale. "After er… trying lots of other things… Carlisle tried to starve himself to death. But instead of dying, he ended up draining a deer out of desperation. And he's drank animal blood ever since."

"Is that right, Edward?" I asked, though I was sure I hadn't missed anything.

Edward offered a slow affirmative nod. "That's… the essential story, yes."

"So what's that got to do with anything?' I asked, impatiently tapping my foot against the stone floor.

I too was tired of beating around the bush. I wanted to cut to the chase.

"There is…" Edward hesitated for a moment, before Alice shot him an icy glare. "There is one thing about that story that neither he, nor I, ever told you."

I raised an eyebrow both in confusion and encouragement for Edward to keep going.  _One thing he never told me? What is it?_

Edward sighed and decided to just spit it out. "It didn't work."

I blinked twice in bewilderment. Edward was being unhelpfully vague. "What didn't work?"

"The deer blood," Edward said, like it ought to have been obvious. "And it still doesn't. No animal blood does."

I still wasn't getting what he was getting at. "Doesn't work  _how_  exactly?"

"It doesn't satisfy our thirst," Edward intoned slowly, like I was a complete moron. "And there are some… well…  _side-effects._ Minor stuff really…"

Alice rolled her eyes. She clearly didn't agree with Edward's assessment.

"…Nothing that doesn't make it still worth it, I promise," Edward rushed to assure me. "But, well, Aro disagrees. He won't let any of his guard drink animal blood because he thinks it doesn't make us healthy enough or strong enough."

Aro very nearly snorted at Edward's words. "I do not simply think it, I  _know_  it," he declared resolutely. "You could not even best the weakest of our members in your current state."

Edward made a face, like Aro was being unfair. "Well, of course I couldn't right  _now_. I haven't hunted in months."

Aro stiffened at this.

And he wasn't the only one. Several vampires in the crowd tensed as well. And wore expressions of empathetic horror.

" _Months_  you say?" Aro breathed out in astonishment. "My, my Edward. Whatever are you waiting for?"

Edward scowled at Aro. "You already know," he bit out through gritted teeth.

Aro grinned naughtily. "Of course." Then he swept out a hand in front of him, indicating the crowd. "But for everyone else's benefit, if you would please…"

Edward sighed, and in a flat, lifeless tone said "After I left Forks, I got depressed and didn't want to eat. Then, when I thought Bella was…" he trailed off, unwilling to even say the word  _dead_  in conjunction with my name. "…I nearly hunted in the city…"

Aro clapped his hands together suddenly, as though he was excited. "Yes, I do recall that being one of your…  _options_ ," he said, his dark red eyes sparkling with wonderment. "Though, in the end, you chose against it."

Aro's face fell and all the happy energy faded abruptly from his voice when he said this.

And suddenly I was very confused.  _Did Aro_ _ **want**_ _Edward to have devoured someone in his protected city? Wasn't that against the rules?_

"Loyal to Carlisle to the end, I suppose," Aro concluded a bit sadly.

" _Always_ ," Edward practically growled.

Aro sighed. "It is such a pity that his vision did not pan out. Such noble intentions… " He shook his head sadly. "Believe me, Edward, I am not happy to be right."

I looked to Aro, confusion clearly written on my face. "Right about what?"

Aro glanced over his shoulder. "That Carlisle would waste, weaken with time if he persisted in refusing his natural instincts," he told me, his voice gentle, like melting butter. "And that any others who could be persuaded to share his peculiar vision would decline as well."

_Waste? Weaken? Decline?_

I hadn't seen anything of the sort. I mean, Edward had still been able to stop that van from crushing me—not a weak feat by any means. And Alice, Jasper and Emmett hadn't had any problems dismembering James, despite the fact that he drank human blood, and they did not.

"Is there any proof?"

Aro blinked slowly, and turned gradually to face me fully, his robes swishing softly over the flagstones as he moved. "Proof of what, my dear?" he asked patiently.

"Proof of your claims," I clarified, pointing to Aro. "Proof that animal blood isn't enough?"

I wasn't going to just accept the conclusion Aro wanted me to draw without that much. Not when human lives were on the line.

Aro's lips split to reveal a wide, toothy smile that made my skin crawl. "Why I thought you'd never ask."

Aro took a step forward then. But he stopped when he saw that Alice's face suddenly flickered with doubt—like she'd seen something upsetting in his future.

I wasn't sure what she'd seen. No one seemed to want to enlighten me, the hapless mortal.

But whatever Alice found so upsetting had the opposite effect on Edward. His lips turned up at the corners ever-so-slightly. And he puffed out his chest as much as he could, restrained as he was, like he had an edge-up all of sudden.

"There's nothing you can say Aro, that's going to change her mind," Edward asserted, sounding triumphant. "Bella knows killing humans is wrong. She'll never agree to become like you, no matter what you tell her."

My eyes turned instantly back on Aro, eager to hear how he was going to respond to Edward's accusation. I expected him to come up with a crafty rebuttal. Something about how "morality was all a matter of perspective", or how "the facts speak for themselves."

But the devious smirk that twisted his expression instead was a lot less comforting.

" _Precisely_ ," Aro agreed, his voice little more than a hiss. "Which is why I am not going to merely tell her. Instead, I am going to  _show_  her."

Alice perked up immediately. Apparently that was going to work out a lot better.

Edward deflated, looking abruptly defeated.

And I blanched. "Sh-Show me?"

I wasn't sure I liked where this was going.

_Did Aro plan to just devour a human right in front of me, and set Edward free to hunt a deer, and then challenge him to a competition of strength?_

If so, I didn't really want to watch that.

Aro seemed to realize I'd misinterpreted his words. And his features at once warped with concern. "Dear me, not like  _that,_ " he promised, mirroring my horror for a moment. "I merely meant that I would let you see with your own eyes what I have already seen with mine."

_See with my own eyes what he had seen with his?_  I questioned, entirely confounded by his words.  _Was that even possible?_

"My daughters, with their unique gifts, can share my memories."

_Daughters?_ I wondered at Aro's usage of the familial term.

He couldn't possibly mean that literally? Could he?

I mean, vampires didn't have children—Rosalie had been adamant about that. So the only possibility left was that Aro had fathered children during his human life, and then later transformed into vampires.

But it was much more likely that Aro was simply using the term the same way he used other familial terms, like brother, to refer to Caius. Maybe Aro simply called everyone he had changed personally his "children".

I mean, that wasn't so weird. Carlisle effectively did the same thing in his coven, calling those he'd changed himself—like Edward, Rosalie and Emmett—his children.

Aro raised a hand toward the crowd, and beckoned with his finger. "Lucretia, Titania, come."

In response to Aro's words, two short figures who were sheathed in hooded cloaks as inky as Jane's broke through the crowd of Volturi. And began walking towards us.

I hadn't noticed them before, while they were still enmeshed with the other bodies. But I wasn't surprised that I had missed them. They were barely tall enough to reach my waist. And had been practically invisible behind the wall of full-sized vampires looming near Aro.

Soon after they breached the front row of bodies, the two figures suddenly increased their pace, shifting from a slow walk, into an inhumanly fast dash. Their cloaks billowed open, and their hoods flew back in the wind. And what I saw beneath them completely blew my mind.

The two figures instead of simply being unusually short, albeit full-grown adults, were identical little girls. They couldn't have been more than six or seven in human years. And to my surprise the girls had all the tell-tale signs of vampirism.

Flawless pale skin. Red eyes. And teeth so straight and white they would make a dentist weep tears of joy. Their skin, the same pale almond shade as Aro's, even threw rainbow light off the stone walls the same way Edward's did when they passed through one of the rectangles of light cast by the high window slits.

But I wasn't afraid of them. Instead, I felt oddly disarmed. They were easily the most adorable creatures I had ever seen.

The two girls both had tiny, perfect features, and the cutest, chubby cheeks. Their long, straight black hair, was styled with elegant clips. And their little bodies, beneath the cloaks, were charmingly bedecked in miniature Rococo-style dresses—the many layers of frilly fabric the same bright, ruby-red as their eyes.

I'd never seen vampires so little. But I fell in love with them instantly.

The twin girls rushed excited toward Aro, clutching their skirts with their tiny pale fingers as they ran to keep themselves from ripping over them. And they released a series of high-pitched, chime-like giggles as they moved, that my heart could hardly handle.

_So cute. Must protect._

Aro positively glowed as they approached. And when they reached him, he swiftly bent to scoop them up—seizing one girl in each arm in an odd combination of tenderness and supernatural strength.

Once the girls were secured in his arms, Aro rose to his feet, and hoisted them both up to rest on his hips. Which was a strange thing to witness.

It was almost as though Aro was the twins' father in the literal sort of way. And there were a lot of startling visual similarities to back up that idea. The girls both clearly had inherited Aro's long, pin-straight black hair. And I swore they had the same, aristocratic eyebrows.

But if that really was the case, and I wasn't just mistaking coincidental genetics for relatedness, then I couldn't understand why Aro would choose to turn his own daughters at such a young age. They would be frozen at that juvenile stage of physical and emotional development forever. And to do that to anyone, especially one's own children, seemed impossibly cruel.

There was also the fact that I vaguely remembered Carlisle saying something about how vampires weren't supposed to change children. That the Volturi forbid it. And I didn't peg Aro as a hypocrite.

Granted, I didn't know him very well. But still, anyone younger than a teenager couldn't be properly trusted to keep vampires a secret. And therefore changing anyone younger than that would amount to a crime in the eyes of the Volturi.

As I tried to reason it out, Aro's voice broke me out of my reverie. "My darling, little princesses, I have something to ask of you," he said, his voice saccharine with adoration.

The twins giggled in delight. Then they responded in eerie unison. "We already know, father. You want us to show the human the truth about the golden-eyed one."

I took an uneasy step back. No two people—vampires or not—should be in such perfect sync to say that many words at exactly the same time. Although their voices differed slightly from one another in pitch—one was high soprano, and the other, a mezzo—it was almost as if there was only one mind between them.

"I'll do anything for you,  _il mio padre_ ," the girl leaning against Aro's left hip spoke, her high soprano voice, sounding like the trill of a piccolo.

She threw her precious little arms enthusiastically around Aro's neck. And deposited a small, swift kiss on his forehead. The scene was so magnificently adorable, I had to purse my lips firmly together to keep an "aww" from slipping out.

"I won't," the other girl—the mezzo—bit out impetuously.

She twisted her chubby, doll-like face into the fiercest scowl she could manage. Then she crossed her tiny arms over her chest. And turned up her nose in her best imitation of Caius' recent sulky behavior.

I held a hand over my mouth and tried to repress a laugh. Although this girl was clearly giving looking imposing her best attempt, her cherubic cheeks and large, round eyes cancelled out all the ferocity. If anything, her vicious expression only made her even more darling.

Aro turned to the girl on his right—the mezzo—and he positively melted. His eyes grew wide and looked on the verge of tears. And his face turned pained, as though her rejection had dealt him a physical blow.

I was certain that he was exaggerating. Aro probably dealt with these two's silly antics all the time.

But the little girl brooding in her expensive gown totally bought the act.

"I…" he young voice faltered with her slipping resolve. Then, with one last look at Aro's devastated expression, she fisted her tiny hands in self-frustration for allowing him to sway her.

"I'll only help if you promise me another dress!" she conceded spitefully. "Lucretia ripped my other one."

The girl glared at her sister accusatorily. And her sister—Lucretia, I gathered—glared right back, a clash of violently bright crimson.

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Lucretia retorted.

"Yes you did!" the other girl—Titania, I guessed—refuted with equal passion.

"No I didn't!" Lucretia defended, her voice rising to a painful volume.

The decibels of her cry combined with their high pitch rattled my eardrums. I clapped my hands over my ears automatically, and immediately felt bad for Aro. He was a lot closer to the girl. And with his super hearing, Lucretia's cry had probably hurt him three times as much.

"Yes you d—" her sister began angrily, before she was abruptly cut off by her "father."

"Titania, dear," Aro implored. His brow was still wrinkled in pain from the aural assault. "Certainly another dress can be arranged, but at the moment I need the both of you to behave. This is very important," he told them sternly.

Titania wriggled uncomfortably for a moment under her father's serious gaze, before settling down. Then, looking resigned, she offered a small, curt nod. "Yes father."

"You have my sincerest thanks, my dears," Aro responded gratefully.

After this, Aro bent fluidly and set the twins on the ground once again. But as soon as their tiny, booted feet touched the flagstones, they darted in my direction.

I stiffened instinctually as they zipped to my sides. It was strange to see such tiny beings move with such inhuman swiftness. But I knew they didn't mean any harm.

Aro drifted to my side at a considerably slower pace, reaching me almost a minute after his daughters had halted near my ankles. He smiled fondly down at them again, before his eyes—eyes several shades darker than his more recently sated daughters—raised back up to meet mine.

"Are you ready, Isabella?" he asked, extending one hand in my direction, as though he expected me to take it. "Ready to learn the truth?"

I swallowed thickly, but didn't move. "How?" I settled on saying. "You said you would show me?"

I was in some desperate need of some clarification here.

"Ah, you see, that is my daughters' special gift," Aro explained, gesturing to the twin vampires huddled around my feet. "Titania can read minds, and Lucretia can transmit her sister's memories into the minds of others. But both of their powers operate much like mine—" Aro's face split into a wide, fatherly smile at this "—that is, they require physical contact."

Aro turned his wrist with a graceful flourish. And I nodded to show that I understood.

"So when my daughters hold each other's hands—" Aro reached down to press the two of the twin's tiny hands together, "—they can utilize their powers in tandem. They create a chain of sorts. And this chain allows Titania to read someone's mind, then transfer those memories to her sister, who can then deposit them in the mind of another."

I paused for a moment to envision what Aro had just described. I pictured Aro's twin girls holding hands in the center of this potent formation, with each using their free hand to touch someone else. It was like a strange assembly line of mind-sharing, I decided.

But as foreign as the concept was to me, it appeared, from Aro's candid description that this was not an unusual experience. Aro probably used his "daughters'" powers all the time to share what he had learned from other people's memories with other members of his coven. That way, they wouldn't have to just take his word for it.

"So, they want to use this power on me… to show me things that you've seen?"

"As well as things which others have seen," Aro added. "For I, with my gift, have seen everything those who have touched me have seen."

I blinked a couple of times, trying to process that. "That's… a little confusing."

Aro chuckled at my honesty. "Do not worry, my dear. It will all make sense soon," he reassured me.

But I wasn't completely convinced. I looked over my shoulder for the one person I still sorta believed would be looking out for my best interests.

"Alice?" I asked uncertainly.

"He won't hurt you. And neither will they," Alice told me, gesturing toward the twins fidgeting near my feet. "Go ahead, let them show you."

_If you say so._

I took a deep breath. Then, trembling, I held my hand out toward the little girls huddled by my legs.

Perceiving my quavering gesture as an invitation, the two black-haired girls linked hands in a tight grasp. Then Lucretia extended her free arm, with her palm facing upwards toward me.

The gesture was such a close mimicry Aro's earlier gesture, that it startled me. Lucretia was even attempting to pull off her "father's" paradoxically polite and commanding air...

Without success.

Instead she just looked unsettlingly ecstatic.

Trying not to panic, despite the bright ruby eyes and huge toothy grin that were fixated on me, I slowly lowered my hand into Lucretia's. And I gasped as the iciness of her petite fingers bit through the warmth of my much larger hand.'

Lucretia ignored my reaction. And she was still beaming like a maniac while she watched her sister place her free hand in Aro's. His hand dwarfed Titania's to an even greater degree than mine dwarfed Lucretia's, although theirs were probably the same temperature.

As soon as Titania's and Aro's hands touched, the chain was complete.

I felt a dizzying rush, like a surge of electricity, pass from Aro's sturdy frame into young Titania. Then the same current passed through the small hands of both girls interlocked in the middle into Lucretia. And she passed the current to me.

As the electricity built in her tiny hand, I squeezed my eyes shut, anticipating some sort of pain. Or to start seeing things.

But I felt nothing.

And the curving, cinnamon brown stones around me hadn't budged.

The girls waited a little longer, scrunching their brows together in fierce concentration. But still nothing happened. And after another agonizing minute, Lucretia finally removed her hand from mine.

"Father, it seems that we cannot show her," Titania observed flatly. "There is a barrier."

Edward smiled triumphantly, pleased that it hadn't worked. And Aro released a regretful sigh.

"I knew that this was a likely outcome, given your resistance to other mental powers, but I had hoped…"

"I'm sorry that I'm such a freak," I apologized, ducking in embarrassment.

"No, Isabella, I assure you that you are nothing of the sort," Aro placated musically.

He then drifted close enough to give me a sincere, comforting look. But he remained distant enough to be out of arm's reach.

"To have a mental shield so powerful already in your mortal state is practically unheard of," Aro explained, his eyes glowing with awe. "When you become one of us…" he trailed off in euphoric wonder. "I cannot even begin to imagine how powerful you will be. Truly it will be magnificent to behold."

Aro brought two hands to his lips. And there he made a gesture halfway between offering a prayer of thanks to my creator, and restraining a squeal of fanboyish glee. He held the gesture for minute, before releasing his hands from their position over his mouth. And raising them skyward in another sacral-like motion.

The display disturbed me. Aro's worshipful attitude seemed entirely unfounded. It seemed infinitely more likely that it was just a ploy of extreme flattery. That Aro was just trying to manipulate me into becoming another figure on his chessboard.

I didn't think I would just be a pawn to him—which was a small consolation. But the idea of being any piece of Aro's board—even the queen—was unpalatable to my independent sensibilities. I was not a prize, or a toy, or a weapon.

I was Bella Swan. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Or just really inconvenient," I argued, in a probably futile, attempt to mitigate Aro's collector's enthusiasm. "All it's doing now is preventing me from seeing whatever you want to show me."

"Not necessarily, I do not suppose you have tried to… control your gift?" Aro enquired.

Edward snorted. And I, too, struggled not to laugh.

_Control it? I just learned I had it five minutes ago!_

"Well, um, no," I admitted, honestly. "I mean, in case you didn't notice, I didn't even realize I had one until just now. I thought it was… some kind of weird anomaly with my brain."

"That is… unfortunate," Aro sighed dejectedly.

Despite his inordinately high praise, it seemed that my super powers were throwing an enormous wrench in Aro's plans. And while I was happy this made me less likely to be used by Aro, I was very disappointed it was holding me back from seeing the truth.

"You do not suppose you could… say, picture the barrier in your mind, and remove it from yourself for a moment?" Aro suggested carefully.

"Is that… is that even possible?" I stammered in utter surprise.

_Wait—he thinks I can overcome this?_ I thought dubiously.  _That somehow we can bypass my own defenses and let his daughters probe my brain?_

"As I am sure you are aware, I have lived for a very long time," Aro began, his tone gentle and expositional. "—and in all those years I have never met a person with a defensive power who was unable to divert it from themselves."

Aro's gaze flickered over to several vampires clustered behind him. I assumed they must be the carriers of defensive powers he was talking about.

"It takes a great deal of concentration," Aro stipulated, wagging a cautionary finger. "But it is certainly possible."

I nodded. I trusted Aro's expertise. He'd probably seen hundreds of similar powers to mine over the millennia. But then there was another problem.

_Do I even want to let his daughters in? I mean… it might be the only way I can get to the bottom of all this insanity. But is it really worth it?_

I liked my mental privacy. A lot. And I had a hard time seeing  _anything_ worth sacrificing it.

But for some inexplicable reason I trusted Aro—at least more than I trusted Edward at the moment. And so I decided lowering my mental shield was worth a shot.

Especially since there was half a chance, given my luck that it simply wouldn't work.

"Try picturing the barrier in your head," Aro instructed smoothly. "Give it a color, a shape, a texture—anything you can to solidify its presence in your mind. Then try and see if you can move it."

I nodded again. That didn't sound too difficult. Although "easier said than done" probably applied.

But first, before I did any of that, I decided I needed to calm down. I inhaled slowly, letting the curative oxygen seep all the way down in the deep recesses of my lungs. And then I exhaled, just as slowly, helping my heartrate peter back down to a manageable pace.

Once I was fully relaxed, I decided to follow Aro's instructions, since he knew best how these sorts of things worked. And I concentrated on what I imagined as my mental barrier.

I pictured a red, glowing veil made of a filmy material completely encapsulating my brain. The color was one I picked somewhat arbitrarily—probably because there was so much of it in this room—but it helped me pin it down. And once I had determined where the edges of the barrier were, I focused on unfolding it from my mind, like unwrapping a present. And pushing it gradually outwards.

It was strange to try to move something that wasn't physically a part of me. And I wasn't sure it would even work.

However my efforts were suddenly rewarded as I felt something miniscule shift inside me. It was only the tiniest change. But suddenly I felt like completely exposed. Like I was naked in the middle of a blizzard.

Terrified by the unexpected sensation, I lost focus. The barrier snapped right back into place, pulsing angrily and stronger than ever before. And it refused to budge again at my gentle nudging.

It seemed that my shield, or whatever it was called, did not respond well to being relocated outside of my mind.

I decided to let it sit for a minute, rather than continuing to incessantly prod it.

But I absolutely refused to give up. Because I knew that this was the only way. It was plainly evident now that if I wanted to know the truth, I needed to overcome my greatest fear.

I needed to be at ease with the one thing that perturbed me above all else—the invasion of my mind.

After a quick breather, I chewed on my lower lip and struggled to wrestle my internal protection away again. It was extremely scary to be without it. But I fought my thundering heart with reassuring mantras.

_It'll be okay Bella, It'll be okay, you're just trying to open your mind. Nothing really scary. You'll be fine. Everything is going to be_ _**just** _ _fine…_

I didn't really believe it—not one bit. But I found myself relaxing substantially. And my stubborn barrier once again began to depart from its equally stubborn possessor.

I pictured the red veil floating away from my mind. And as it did, the frightening sensation of being completely vulnerable washed over me once again.

But instead of losing my concentration this time, I willed myself to feel content with it. To accept the loss of security like it was an average, everyday occurrence. Like it was a hobby of mine to stand around completely exposed, with judging eyes boring into me from every direction.

And eventually, it started to not feel so bad. Weird. A bit ticklish even. But not awful.

After a minute or so of holding the barrier outside myself, Lucretia reached out to touch me again. And I felt something probing against my exposed mind.

Deep down all I wanted to do was panic. This was exactly why I had a barrier in the first place!

But rather than reject Lucretia this time, I took a deep breath. And let her intrusion wash over me. Like it was a tidal wave, and I was beach.

"It's working!" Lucretia chirped happily.

And that was the last thing I heard before I was thrust in to the middle of someone else's memories.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carlisle is religious. I try not to be over-the-top with it. But it's an important part of his character.

CHAPTER FOUR: CARLISLE

…

_I'm hoping that there is still a point to this life, even for us._

_It's a long shot, I'll admit._

_By all accounts, we're dammed regardless._

_But I hope, maybe foolishly, that we'll get some measure of credit for trying._

_-_ Carlisle, New Moon Chapter 2

…

When Aro had said he would be sharing what he'd seen with me, I couldn't help but imagine that the experience was going to be the way it was in  _Harry Potter._ That I would be viewing a memory the same way Harry had through Dumbledore's pensieve—that is, objectively, as an inserted third party.

But the truth was much stranger.

Rather than following the owner of the memory around in some insubstantial form, I saw the events unfold from their perspective. I saw through their eyes. Heard through their ears. And felt through their skin like it was my own. Like I had possessed their body.

Except that, well I had no control.

Their body was a vehicle. And I was merely a passenger along for the ride.

Given these conditions it took me a few seconds after the sienna stone walls and floors melted away from my vision, to figure out  _whose_  memories I was experiencing. Whoever they were, they weren't thinking about their identity at the moment. And the environment we were in wasn't exactly full of large, unobscured mirrors.

In fact, it was pretty dark. The sky above us was black, and thickly populated with clouds. There was no moon or stars in sight. And the only light was a dim orange glow emanating from a lamppost up ahead, faintly illuminating a patch of wet cobblestones, and the outlines of a few nearby buildings.

Most of the buildings in this little town had steeply slanted roofs. And most were pretty short. I guessed this memory took place before the invention of the elevator. Though there were exceptions. A few thin spires rose above everything—the tops of cathedrals—cutting sharp points into the skyline.

As I took everything in, my best guess was that we were in the middle of an old London street. The style of the architecture certainly supported that theory. But even more compelling was the smell. Everywhere we turned, the faint odor of human excrement mixed with freshly fallen rain greeted my nose.

Or, whoever's nose I was smelling through at the moment, anyway. They didn't wrinkle their nostrils at the smell. And I certainly would have.

"You said it was here, didn't you?" an unfamiliar voice asked in a voice just above a whisper.

The world panned across, then. And off to our right I saw the silhouette of a scrawny young man, wearing dusty, knee-high breeches and a faded waistcoat. He wasn't anyone I knew. But the person whose memories I was sharing recognized him immediately.

_William,_ they told me.

But that was not all they told me. People's thoughts were rarely so convenient.

_William, they can probably still hear you. Whispering won't help._

No clue who "they" were. But okay…

"Yes, it is here," the person whose memory I was viewing whispered back even softer.

I felt the words rumble in my mouth. And they vibrated strangely in my ears. Never before had I heard someone else's voice like it was my own.

But I was even more stunned to learn that this wasn't any old stranger's voice. No, this voice was one I instantly recognized.

_Carlisle._

_I'm in Carlisle's memories._

And very abruptly, I was seeing the scene in front of me with a new perspective. A perspective that made my stomach roil with horror.

William—a friend of Carlisle's during his life as a human, I guessed—was pointing at something in the middle of the damp, cobblestone street. It was an old, circular sewer grate, not unlike the one I had passed through to enter the Volturi headquarters. And though at this very moment tonight, it was  _not_  pushed halfway open, I knew this story well enough to know that wouldn't last.

A jolt of fear shot through me instantly. But my panic didn't bleed over into Carlisle. His emotions—which I could feel as strongly as my own—were still a separate entity. And I was surprised at how easy it was to parse out who was feeling what.

Aro had been right. This was all going to make perfect sense.

But as I watched through Carlisle's eyes, as William lit a torch, and dashed off to start knocking on people's doors, I wasn't sure I wanted it to.  _This_  story was one I thought was best understood in theory, not up-close and personal.

Though evidently, Aro disagreed.

While I tried to reason through  _why,_ William progressed down the street. He stopped at the door of each home, and pounded hard on the wood. The sound was jarring. But no one, I was surprised to find, was upset to be awoken at this ungodly hour of the night.

As soon as William said the word "vampire" they grabbed their own torches, and whatever weapons they had on hand. And followed him eagerly out into the street.

I guessed from their irate expressions and the few words I caught here and there that many had lost relatives to the monsters. And the townspeople were thirsty for revenge.

Soon, the entire street was ablaze with torchlight. Pitchforks, and hoes and rakes shook in angry, grimy hands. And the boisterous crowd was chanting something.

It was hard to make out exactly what everyone was saying over the din. But "kill the vampire!" and "go to hell, damn beasts!" were popular phrases.

As the mob frenzy started to reach a fever pitch, I tried squeezing my eyes shut to block out what was coming next. But Carlisle's body didn't cooperate.

"Let's see if we can lure one out!" William said.

He pushed his way to the front of the mob. Then knelt next to the sewer grate. And reached to pull the grate aside.

Carlisle, who had been calm until now, finally panicked. "William, I'm not so sure that's a good id—"

But before Carlisle could finish his sentence, we heard a loud  _whoosh_. Then a low sound like growling. And suddenly a grimy figure with long, matted wet hair, ancient, torn clothes, and no shoes stood just inches away from Carlisle's nose.

Carlisle, bless him, had excellent reaction time, even for a human. So he staggered backwards immediately. Then he reached for the nearest sharp object—a small dagger he wore in a sheath on his belt—to fend the creature off.

But the  _thing_  that had emerged from the sewers wasn't interested in a fight. With a tiny flick of his pale wrist, the vampire sent Carlisle's knife spinning into the darkness. And while Carlisle was struggling to process where his weapon had gone, the beast called over his shoulder back down into the sewers.

The words were in some foreign language I wasn't familiar with. And Carlisle wasn't exactly fluent either. But he at least knew which language it was— _Latin_ —from the passages his father had read to him out of the Vulgate.

_The vampire must be speaking with the others of his kind_ , Carlisle thought, as a rumbling Latin reply came up from the depths. He wasn't sure how many vampires were living underneath London's streets, but he was sure there was more than one. He'd tried doing the math, based on the number of deaths in the last month. But he didn't know how often vampires had to feed….

I swallowed.  _I_  knew. According to Edward it was about every two weeks. And given the number of deaths in Carlisle's mind, four or five vampires seemed like a safe estimate.

And that knowledge made me want to scream. One vampire was already impossible for even a hundred men working in perfect tandem to defeat. But four or five?

The townspeople didn't stand a ghost of a chance.

Of course Carlisle didn't know that. But he would soon find out just how powerful these creatures really were.

After the vampire finished his conversation with the others below, one of the members of the angry mob standing close to the sewer grate tried lunging at the vampire with their pitchfork. But long before the sharp tips of the deadly implement could find their way home, the vampire moved very suddenly from where he had landed. And broke into a run.

The run took the vampire straight through the crowd. But he was so fast that the people either dove out of his way to avoid being trampled, or were knocked out of his way quite forcibly by his pumping arms.

Seeing what was happening—how diabolically fast the creature was, and how nothing they tried throwing at it could stop it—the mob began to scream. And most of its members scattered in terror.

I estimated that this was probably their first time facing a  _real_  vampire, rather than the innocent, but eccentric humans Carlisle's father had routinely accused. And no one was anywhere near prepared to deal with the actual thing.

But Carlisle wasn't going to let being ill-prepared stop him from trying to take down the monster. It would only continue to terrorize the innocent people in his beloved town if he did not kill it tonight. And that, in Carlisle's mind, was an utterly unacceptable outcome.

So Carlisle scooped up an abandoned shovel off the ground and took off running after the monster. And I was surprised as I felt his legs pump hard, and watched the straggling mob members gather behind him to join the pursuit, how  _fast_  he was. Despite being human, he was almost keeping pace with the vampire. And the only explanation I could think of was that the vampire he was chasing was horribly starved.

Or it  _wanted_  Carlisle to catch up to him.

The vampire didn't take any sudden turns to try and shake Carlisle from his pursuit. Instead, he ran in a straight line away from the central square of the city. And the further he got from what remained of the torch-bearing mob, the slower his ran became, like he was tiring.

Though, I of course, knew that couldn't be the case. Vampires didn't get tired.

But again, Carlisle's ignorance was his downfall. As the vampire slowed, and I tried in vain to scream, I could feel Carlisle's heart soaring, and a triumphal expression starting to twist his features. We were so close to the vampire now. Close enough to reach out and touch him….

Carlisle brandished the shovel he'd scooped up earlier. He aimed it decisively at the vampire's sodden head. Then pulled back, ready to strike…

But before Carlisle could bury the shovel into the vampire's skull, it wheeled on us suddenly. And Carlisle only had a moment to blink in stupefied terror before he saw a flash of white teeth. And felt something razor sharp carve into his neck.

I winced. The pain was blinding.

Like nothing I'd ever felt before.

When James had bit me, I had been half-delirious with blood-loss already, which had numbed the pain a little. But Carlisle did not have that luxury. He was wide awake when the vampire shredded through his skin.

And he had been running too. Which meant that his heart pumped the venom leaking into his system even faster. Adding even more fuel to the fire.

Suddenly, I understood what Alice had meant when she'd told me vampire venom was meant to be paralyzing. I felt Carlisle's grip slacken instantly. And the shovel he had been holding clattered nosily onto the cobblestone street.

Dimly, over the pain, I heard the sound of ten or so people yelling while running toward us. I guessed a few of those who had followed Carlisle in the chase after the vampire were finally catching up.

The vampire, from how quickly and nosily he was slurping down Carlisle's blood, obviously did not want to be interrupted. But the townspeople quickly gave him no choice—jabbing him in the ribs with one of their pitchforks. And the vampire, furious, but unharmed, detached himself from Carlisle's neck to deal with them.

We heard some awful snarling sounds, then. And I wanted desperately to see what was going on. But Carlisle's neck was throbbing something fierce. And his legs had been reduced to jelly from the fire quickly spreading throughout his body.

So as soon as the vampire let go of him, Carlisle dropped straight to the ground.

The world was blurry as he plummeted—like a watercolor painting in oranges and grays. And when his head finally touched the wet stones below, it struck the street with a bit too much force. And very abruptly, everything went black.

But before all sense departed him completely, Carlisle did hear a few more horrible sounds. The sickening  _crunch_  of someone's face against a brick wall. And the shrill  _snap_  of another's neck.

…

When Carlisle finally came to again, I already knew what had happened. He'd been bitten, and cast aside by that ancient vampire. And so now—though this was the last thing he wanted—he was becoming one himself.

But Carlisle didn't know that. Not yet.

As I struggled not to feel sick about the impending revelation, Carlisle wearily began to blink open his eyes. The world went in and out of focus as he did this. And in the few flashes of clarity we caught, I noticed we hadn't moved at all. We were still in the same street we'd chased the ancient vampire into.

But the monster was nowhere in sight. And neither was anyone else.

We were completely alone.

And that, combined with the searing pain—pain that made me swear someone had lit Carlisle's innards on fire—was not very comforting.

While Carlisle's gaze flickered around, checking to make sure he hadn't missed anything—or  _anyone—_ he hissed. Then one of his hands flew up to clap over the wound on his neck—where the pain was the worst. And his teeth snapped together in a grimace as he tried to sit up.

At first, feeling the intense strain in Carlisle's muscles, I was sure he was going to give up before he got fully upright. But he managed somehow. And once he was sitting, Carlisle didn't waste any time trying to alleviate his agony, like I would have done in similar circumstances. Instead, the cogs in his brain were already firing, trying to figure out what had happened, and what he was going to do next.

I couldn't help but be impressed. But then again, what else should I have expected from the first vampire ever to defy their all-powerful instincts? Of course  _Carlisle_ would have an incredible ability to function in spite of unbearable pain.

The world around us panned up as Carlisle peered up at the sky to check the time. There was still no moon in sight, and the helpful streetlamps had all gone out—meaning it was probably midnight. And I was surprised by how much Carlisle  _could_ see, given those conditions.

When Carlisle's eyes turned down again, the individual fibers in his tattered shirt and dirty pants were distinct, even in the darkness. When he looked beside him, every tiny groove and cranny in the cobblestones next to where he sat stood out with crystal clarity. And on the very far side of the street, tucked away in the little corner, a tiny spider was spinning a delicate web; its fine threads, and even the little hairs on its legs, in sharp focus.

_Impossible,_ Carlisle marveled.  _I should not be able to see so much. How come everything is suddenly so cl—?_

His thoughts were broken then by a particularly sharp flux of fire under his skin. He hissed sharply, and violently arched his back. But to my astonishment, he didn't scream. Somehow, he still had enough presence of mind to be worried that someone might hear that.

Carlisle took deep breaths and clutched at his chest until the worst of the pain abated, then he resumed his examination. The collar of his shirt was completely shredded on the left side. And there was a splattering of rusted blood on the fabric and skin around the hole.

If there had been anything in Carlisle's stomach, I was certain he would have been sick.

He forced himself to look away.

Disgusted, he shucked the blood-soaked shirt off over his head, and let it fall to the ground next to him. And once he'd peeled the crusty garment off, he began feeling around his shoulders and neck for the source of the blood.

_I really wish I had a mirror,_ he thought, as his hands traveled blindly over his throbbing body.

But even without one, he found the source of the blood quickly enough. It was a deep, crescent-shaped gouge in the left side of his neck—deep enough to tear through both skin and muscle. But despite its severity, the wound had already scabbed over.

_That's strange,_  Carlisle thought.  _I've always been healthy, but a wound this deep shouldn't have healed_ _ **that**_ _fast…_

He ran his hands over the injury again, feeling more intently now. And what he found by doing this surprised him. The crescent shaped cut was not completely smooth, as Carlisle had first supposed. No, it had a dozen or more tiny ridges, like the edge of a sandwich someone had just bitten into.

And that was when it clicked.

_Bite marks,_ Carlisle realized with horror.  _I've been bitten… By a vampire. And that means…_

Carlisle's heart sank with a force I had not hitherto thought possible.

_That means I'm—_

But before he could even properly finish that thought, Carlisle's tortured mind was racing with unpleasant memories. He saw another old friend of his, a young woman, screaming and writhing in pain. She too had be bitten—though her crescent-shaped injury was on her wrist. And for that, Carlisle's father, the reverend, had condemned her, and all of her belongings to be burned.

As the flames consuming her screaming body rose higher, the memory faded, to be replaced with another. This time, Carlisle's father—a man who looked almost nothing like him, save for his piercing, blue eyes—was in a kinder role. But only marginally. He was sitting at the kitchen table with Carlisle, and explaining in a grave voice why what was done, had to be done.

"The devil's curse—vampirism, as some call it—is contagious, my son," he explained. "One bite is all it takes. Then they become Satan's forever."

"And what about their souls, father?" the memory version of Carlisle asked, his tone pleading. "Christina was a good woman. She said her prayers, and helped the less fortunate—"

"None of that matters now," Carlisle's father interrupted, his voice suddenly cold. "She is damned, like all the rest. There are no exceptions."

Carlisle swallowed thickly. And his burning hands shook as the reality of what had occurred began to sink in.

He had become the very thing he had set out to destroy.

And worse yet, he had forfeited his soul.

Despair like nothing I had ever felt engulfed Carlisle then. Everything he had ever worked for… Everything he had ever wanted… Gone. Forever.

It was awful beyond belief. And I couldn't be certain, but I was pretty sure my body back in present-day Volterra was crying uncontrollably.

_Poor Carlisle. Poor, poor, Carlisle…._

And it didn't take him long to react in much the same way. Despite the pain making it hard for him to move, Carlisle buried his head in his hands, and tried to sob. But it was no use. His eyes had already changed. In addition to being able to see very clearly, even in the dark, they could no longer produce tears.

All they could manage instead was building up a sort of stinging pressure. Like some kind of thick, mildly acidic fluid was trapped behind them. But no matter how hard Carlisle tried, it could not be released.

_I've lost my soul,_ Carlisle lamented.  _And yet, I can't even properly mourn its loss._

_I really am a monster now._

Automatically I wanted to protest.  _No. You are not a monster! You're the kindest, most compassionate, most selfless person I know. This changes nothing._

But of course, Carlisle couldn't hear me.

And in the absence of my comfort—or anyone else's for that matter—a strangled cry of anguish escaped his throat. Then he collapsed onto the hard cobblestone and whimpered on his hands and knees.

And as if the whole earth understood that something truly awful had happened, it began to rain.

…

Carlisle spent a long time after that doing nothing but despairing. And I didn't exactly blame him, since I understood from his thoughts exactly why this was such a big deal to him. Growing up as a pastor's son he'd wanted nothing else but salvation for twenty-three years. And now he felt robbed of that.

But eventually his cries—which grew progressively louder—could be heard even over the thundering rain. And they alerted someone to his presence.

After one particularly gut-wrenching cry, we heard footsteps echoing loudly in the distance. And while I hoped that whoever was approaching would offer Carlisle a clean change of clothes, and nice warm bed, Carlisle took one look at the wet pavement in front of him and instantly panicked.

There, reflected in the puddles of recently fallen rain, Carlisle and I both saw a horrifying sight. Two violently crimson eyes stared back at us. The eyes of a freshly-turned vampire.

_Oh no, if someone finds me like this…_

More images flashed through Carlisle's mind. But these were not memories. Rather, they were fears of what was to come.

In Carlisle's mind he saw the disapproving stare of his father, looking down at him as he was now, wet and red-eyed in the street. A few of his father's friends gathered planks of wood and a long, sturdy rope. And while his father's friends wrapped the rope tightly around Carlisle's pain-paralyzed form, and struck a match, the reverend said, in a hollow voice, utterly devoid of emotion.

"Kill him. He is no longer my son."

Carlisle came back to reality with a jolt. And as the distant footsteps loomed ever closer, he knew what he had to do.

In his current state, it would be easy for his father and only a few accomplices, to end Carlisle's life. He could barely move as it was. And if they managed to tie him up… well, there would be no escaping his funeral pyre.

So if he wanted to live, he had to hide. At least, until the pain was gone.

And Carlisle was surprised to find, even after having lost everything that had once given his life meaning, that he very much wanted to live. I guess his survival instincts, unlike mine, were still very much intact.

With very little time to lose, Carlisle's eyes rapidly switched back and forth over the urban landscape. He was hoping beyond hope that there was something to hide behind until the approaching person passed. Or even better, something he could hide  _inside_  of.

But the rain, in all its dazzling, individual-droplets-clear-as-diamonds-glory was making it difficult to see. And the pain was making it difficult for him to think.

The footsteps were almost unbearably loud now. And Carlisle's eyes scoured the alley frantically.

Hay bales?  _Not enough cover._ Trash bins?  _Too cramped._ Horse stables?  _The horses probably wouldn't keep quiet with a vampire visiting them._ That outhouse?  _That'll give the first person to use it in the morning a good scare._

Finally, Carlisle caught sight of a rusty entrance to an abandoned potato cellar.

_Not my first choice, but it'll have to do._

Gritting his teeth in determination, Carlisle hauled himself to his feet. But the pain made him instantly dizzy. He swayed where he stood for a moment, before he came to his senses. And hobbled as fast as he could over to the cellar.

Knowing someone was bound to come into view any second, Carlisle tried to waste as little time as he could getting into his hiding place. With great effort, he lifted the rusted door. And with one last glance towards the empty street, Carlisle dropped into the dingy darkness within.

The fall wasn't too far. Nor did the impact really hurt. And soon Carlisle found himself sprawled across a bumpy sea of rotting spuds.

The smell was both putrid, and overwhelming. And this time, Carlisle  _did_ wrinkle his nose.

But there were more pressing things for him to worry about. Like how long the fiery pain in his veins would last. And what on earth was he going to do when it finally stopped.

…

Carlisle wasn't sure exactly how long he had spent in that old potato cellar. But three days was his best guess. He'd heard a few people milling around in the streets the next morning, finding his discarded, bloodied shirt, and presuming him dead. And a few mourners had returned the day after, and the one after that, to curse the vampire who had taken the life of their beloved, reverend's son.

Carlisle was happy to hear that he was liked enough to be missed by the general populace. But never once had he heard his father's voice. And that fact deeply unsettled him.

_Does my father not even care that I am gone? Or does he not believe the ruse? Could he possibly suspect that I still live?_

_Or, at least, exist?_

Carlisle wasn't sure he could call his new state  _living_  when on the dawn of the third day, his heart had abruptly stopped beating.

At first, the sensation had made him panic, certain that he would die and go to hell. But to his utter astonishment, he didn't. For hours afterwards remained, exactly where he was, in the potato cellar. And seemed to be in perfect health.

In fact, the fiery agony that had been pulsing through his body for the last three days was finally gone. And Carlisle soon found that despite not having a beating heart—and not needing, but still being able, to breathe—he could move just fine.

He lifted one hand up to eye-level and twisted it around experimentally… His skin looked different now. While Carlisle had always been light-skinned, his pallor now was even starker. And his flesh was smooth, and hard, like he'd been carved out of white marble.

_So this is the skin of a vampire,_ Carlisle thought.  _It's… surprisingly pretty._

He hadn't expected that. He'd expected to look the way things of the devil were supposed to look. Grotesque. Hideous.  _Terrifying._

Though, he quickly chided himself for being so naïve.  _The bible does say that the devil appears as an angel of light. How else, could he be so enticing?_

Carlisle frowned. That wasn't a happy thought.

But he was barred from pondering it any further when suddenly his brief reprieve from pain ended. A new, excruciating sensation tormented him now. But this one, while equally intense as the fire that had burned in his veins, was confined to his throat. And it was more dry than hot. Like he had been stranded on a desert isle for days without water.

_Thirsty,_ Carlisle registered suddenly.  _So, unbearably thirsty._

My heart dropped in my stomach.  _Oh no._

But for Carlisle, the panic hadn't set in yet. He didn't yet realize  _what_  he was thirsting for. Operating on outdated human instincts, he rose to his feet as quickly as he could. And searched the abandoned potato cellar in vain for a bucket, a trough or hell, even a puddle, of water.

But of course, the only thing in the cellar was mounds of rotting potatoes. And it wasn't like  _water_ would have done Carlisle any good at this point anyway.

Carlisle scratched at the fire in his throat. And debated the merits of sneaking outside to fetch some water, even in broad daylight. His thirst was acute. And he could tell that it was only going to get worse.

But as soon as Carlisle thought about the consequences of running into someone while he was out, his mind, without warning, conjured a violent image. An image of Carlisle sinking his teeth into that person's neck. And drinking, in earnest, all of that person's blood.

A tremor of desire shot through him at the thought. And Carlisle and I both recoiled in horror.

_Not water._ Carlisle corrected, realizing his mistake.  _Blood. I'm thirsting for blood._

The realization hurt. It couldn't compare, though, to the all-encompassing despair from before. I guessed Carlisle was starting to get used to the idea that his new reality was a rather depressing one.

_But of course, I'm thirsting for blood,_ he thought, chastising himself for being so stupid.  _I'm a vampire now. That is… essentially what they do._

Still, neither he, nor I, could have ever been prepared for how potent his new thirst was. It consumed all of his mental, physical and emotional faculties. It was like he was trapped in a  _Groundhog Day-_ type loop with only one thing on the brain.

_Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood._

Carlisle, being the saint he was, tried to tune it out. To focus on literally anything else. But his instincts were being decidedly unhelpful.

Vivid, startling images of himself sinking his new, razor-sharp teeth into the necks of unsuspecting humans kept arresting his mind. And he jerked where he stood, disturbed, by how eager he was to gorge himself on their warm, red blood. His imagination had absolutely no remorse. Human death, all of sudden, seemed inconsequential.

Thick fluid leaked from Carlisle's teeth and pooled on his tongue. I guessed, that was how vampires salivated. And Carlisle couldn't help but release a small moan. The anticipation was too much.

_Why wait?_ something dark in Carlisle's being asked.  _There are hundreds of delectable options just above us. Why not leave this dismal place, and take one? It won't take long. And then, the pain will be over._

That dark voice was  _very persuasive._ Though it wasn't in  _my_  head, I succumbed to it, immediately. And Carlisle, too, was brought under its power, ready to leave the cellar and latch onto the nearest human.

But only for a second. He shook himself almost immediately. And his neglected conscience suddenly, surprisingly, reasserted itself.

_No. That would be murder. The people up there… they're innocent._

Carlisle's heart stung at the idea of doing something so wrong. And the pain was so acute, it stunned  _me_  out of my blood-lusting stupor.

_I can't kill them. No way. Never,_ Carlisle asserted.

_I promise the taste will be magnificent!_ The dark voice shot back in rebuttal. _Like nothing you've ever tasted before!_

_But it's_ _ **still**_ _murder!_ Carlisle shot back, squeezing his eyes shut, and grasping at his temples, like he was trying to wrench the dark voice physically out of his head.  _I can't do that._

Carlisle's new, strong muscles flexed almost reflexively in protest.

_Oh you certainly can. You're much stronger now._

Carlisle gritted his teeth.  _Then I_ _ **won't**_ _,_ he shot back.  _I won't kill them. It wouldn't be right._

_How does what's "right" matter now anyway? Did you not concede that you were damned already? So what can it hurt to kill a few people? If you are already going to hell…_

_No. Even if I am guaranteed hell, it doesn't matter. I refuse to take even a single human life. Those people—they deserve to live._

_That's preposterous,_ the dark voice scoffed. _You'll starve._

_So be it._

Carlisle's instincts made a few more, vicious attempts at protesting. But his convictions were too strong. He'd spent his entire life trying to be a good person. And he wasn't about to just give that up now.

So with a heart firmly resolved against satisfying his thirst for human blood, Carlisle actually managed to sit himself down on the dirty heaps of potatoes. And banish all plans of leaving the cellar to sate his thirst from his mind.

Again, I was enormously impressed. And I wasn't sure why Carlisle didn't realize then and there, that he  _must_  still have a soul. Because it was patently obvious to me that he did. And a good one, too.

_Carlisle still thinks, after enduring all this, that he might not be worthy of heaven?_ I couldn't believe it any more than I could when Carlisle had first told me. Any deity worth their salt would have to admit that Carlisle did not deserve eternal punishment.

And if for some unfathomable reason they didn't agree… Well… let's just say Bella Swan was going to have a little chat with the Big Guy upstairs.

Carlisle, of course, was oblivious to my thoughts. Which was good, because he would probably think they were blasphemous. And as he sat atop the moldering potatoes, his throat continued to burn. But he wasn't going anywhere. At least, not until he could be certain that he wasn't putting anyone in danger.

He probably couldn't just stay in this potato cellar forever, though. Too many people walked around it during the day. And sooner or later, Carlisle's resolve would wear thin enough to allow an  _accident_  to occur.

In the end, Carlisle only waited until nightfall to make his move. The thirst had already doubled in severity by then. And when Carlisle emerged from the cellar it was already too tempting to sneak into one of the nearby homes, and descend on one of the sleeping townspeople…

Carlisle looked longingly at one of the closed wooden doors. Then he forced himself to look away, and clenched his fists into hard white balls at his sides.  _No. We're leaving._

The streets—thank heavens—were utterly empty. But Carlisle wasn't taking any chances. He held his breath, to block out any tantalizing scents that might threaten to overtake him. And ran down the cobbled street as swiftly, and silently as he could, heading straight out of the city, and into the nearby forest.

…

Aro skipped over the first few months Carlisle spent in the forest. But I already knew what had happened there anyway. And I wasn't sure my heart could take watching Carlisle try over and over with every method he could think of to try and kill himself. It tore me up just to think he had tried once, let alone, so many times, to die.

It wasn't that I didn't understand. I knew Carlisle was just trying to make sure he didn't kill anyone. Something that he feared his ever growing thirst would make inevitable.

But I cared a lot about Carlisle. He was a dear friend. And I hated the idea of seeing any of my friends trying to take their own lives.

Hell, I'd come halfway across the world to stop Edward from doing that very thing. So, you could say it was a bit of a sensitive spot for me. Especially right now.

When the time-skip was over, and Carlisle's memories picked back up again, though, I was devastated. During that first month Carlisle had tried  _everything_.

Falling off cliffs. Impaling himself with sharp objects. Hanging himself. Forcing poison berries down his throat. Drowning. And on and on.

But nothing had worked.

And now, he was curled up, in a ball, in damp, dark cave. In the same position he had been for the past three months. Trying desperately, to starve himself to death.

The denial of human blood had clearly taken its toll on Carlisle. He was both physically and mentally exhausted. And to make matters worse, he couldn't gain back any of his lost energy through sleep. But he was still alive. And at this point, that was starting to make Carlisle  _angry_.

_Why am I still alive?_ he lamented.  _Humans die mere days without water!_   _And can only live a few weeks without food! But it's been_ _ **four months**_ _._   _Four months, and I am still here, lying alone in this cave, in more pain than should be survivable, without any end in sight._

_Did I do something wrong?_ Carlisle wondered.  _Or have I already passed away without noticing it, and_ _ **this**_ _is my hell?_

Whether this was hell or earth, it barely made any difference. Carlisle's sanity was slipping, held together only by a tiny string. And his throat was constantly enflamed with a thirst which defied all description.

_The heavens mock me,_ Carlisle thought darkly.  _I try to do the right thing, and this is how they repay me._

He was wrong, of course. I doubted the heavens, if they existed, had anything to do with this. Carlisle was just experiencing the natural consequences of ignoring his new body's needs.

But I was still dumbfounded by Carlisle's strength.

_How on earth is he resisting this? The neck-scorching pain. The vivid and enticing images of what would relieve it... I know it's wrong but... I would have given in a long time ago. I can't fight this like he can. I can't bear this..._

My admission of weakness in this crucial regard startled me. And I realized that Edward hadn't been exaggerating when he had warned that the thirst could drive even the most kind-hearted of people to become rabid, remorseless killers.

I knew, if I ever became a vampire, that I would never have to face it this bad. Probably moments after my transformation, Edward, or someone else would whisk me off to feed on animals as the rest of the Cullens did. And that would relieve the pain before it ever rose anywhere near this level.

But the terrifying reality that my transformation could turn me into an unrepentant slaughterer, given different circumstances, shook me to the core.

My musings were cut short, however, as another spike of white-hot pain surged through Carlisle. It felt like someone had shoved a branding iron directly down his throat. And while I reeled in empathetic agony, seeing stars, he groaned and clutched his throat for the umpteenth time.

_If you would just listen to your instincts…_ the same, dark voice from before whispered into Carlisle's mind. But it was feeble; unpersuasive. And Carlisle ignored it as easily as swatting a fly.

_There's no one around for miles. And I can hardly move anyway,_ came Carlisle's internal rebuttal.  _Soon, I hope, this will all be over. And then I will have won._

The dark voice was silent after that. But Carlisle didn't feel any triumph over that fact. He surmised he wouldn't feel anything of the sort again until he had passed from this world. Living, in his current state, was far too painful.

And—though this was a much lesser concern—horridly boring. The lighting in the cave was too dim for human eyes. And while Carlisle's vampire vision threw everything into bright, sharp focus, there wasn't much to see.

The cave, aside from a few short stalactites and stalagmites, was featureless, and gray. And there was nothing else living inside it—at least, nothing living that was willing to approach him. Nothing that could serve as a companion.

The only mildly interesting thing that ever happened were the shallow puddles that formed near the mouth of the cave whenever it rained. In them, at least Carlisle could see his reflection. How close he was getting to his goal.

Curious, Carlisle peered into one of the puddles now. I was surprised to find he was still wearing the same trousers and leather boots he'd been wearing the night he was attacked, though they were both ragged and full of holes. And he hadn't found a replacement shirt for the bloody one he'd discarded in the street.

But Carlisle wasn't paying attention to that. He stared first at his eyes. His once wild crimson irises were now a vacant black. And there were thick, dark purple circles underneath them.

I recognized both of these symptoms of thirst well, having spent enough time around the Cullens.

But that was not all. Carlisle was so far gone that even his skin had changed. Instead of flawless marble white, it was a sickly shade of yellowish-green. A shade reminiscent of  _jaundice_.

I couldn't help the shock that suffused me. Vampires weren't supposed to get jaundice. That was a human thing.

Carlisle, did not share my surprise. He'd never met any others of his kind since his transformation. And did not plan on changing that fact anytime soon.

Instead, he seemed to be confused for another reason entirely. Namely, that his body  _wasn't_  reacting to his malnourishment humanly  _enough_.

I came to find out that he'd fully expected his skin to pull tight against his bones, and his muscles to shrink and wither away as he starved. But of course, his body, frozen in the shape it had been when he was transformed, could not sustain such drastic changes. No matter how much Carlisle wished otherwise.

After giving his body another long look in the reflective puddles, Carlisle at last sighed and looked away. And he was about to begin one of the mundane mental exercises that kept him occupied in the absence of anything worthwhile to do—like counting sheep.

But before Carlisle could become fully engaged in this activity, suddenly his keen nose registered something besides the ever-present smell of damp rocks. Something that immediately demanded his full attention.

The scent of something  _edible_.

The scent of blood.

There was no hesitation. I doubted Carlisle was even conscious of what he was doing—his response was that automatic. One second, the tantalizing smell entered his nostrils. And the next, Carlisle was on his feet, and sprinting out of the cave after it.

I expected the sunlight to be blinding at first, after the gloom of the cave. But Carlisle's eyes adjusted instantly. He didn't even need to squint. Not even with the broad yellow rays filtering through the trees and throwing dazzling eight-color rainbows off his skin.

The world outside the cave was magnificently beautiful. The intricate patterns of veins on each individual leaf were clearly visible. The fascinating, grooved texture of bark was discernable on every trunk. And tiny white butterflies were fluttering about, their wings, like delicate lace, beating softly in the early summer breeze.

But Carlisle didn't stop to admire the beauty. He zipped past it all, bounding over lush green hills, through aspen forests, and even over a sparkling stream, without so much as a second glance. None of it held any interest to him. Not now.

He was surprisingly fast—still quicker than any Olympic athlete—but a lot slower than he'd been when he'd first awoken. And his whole body throbbed with every slightest movement. Something I was certain wasn't healthy.

But the pain didn't matter to Carlisle any more. All that mattered was catching up to that aroma… So salty, metallic, and warm…

Carlisle's body shuddered with pleasure just thinking about it. And his legs—even aching as they were—picked up the pace.

_So close. Just a little further…_

Suddenly, after bursting through a patch of tall bushes and into a wide clearing, Carlisle saw it. The thing that had activated his long-buried hunting instincts. But to his surprise it was not the lost human traveler he'd been subconsciously expecting.

Instead, what Carlisle found in that clearing was a solitary doe grazing lazily on the grass below.

_A deer?_ Carlisle thought, both puzzled and relieved.  _Could it be…?_

But he wasn't able to finish that thought. The hunting instincts were too strong, having been whipped into a frenzy by his recent chase. And his prey was  _right there_. A measly twenty feet away.

Carlisle didn't think. He pounced.

I wasn't sure how he knew that his legs would be able to spring him across that full distance. Or how his arms knew exactly when to shoot out to wrap themselves around the beast. Or how he found the animal's jugular vein so quickly and easily.

It was like he was on some kind of autopilot. Like his transformation had downloaded a very detailed subroutine called "feeding" into his brain.

Before Carlisle was even fully aware of what had happened, his teeth, drenched in venom, had torn into the deer's neck. And he was guzzling the hot blood spilling into his mouth like there was no tomorrow.

…

Gradually, as more and more blood poured down his throat, the haze surrounding Carlisle's brain faded, and he became more aware of his actions. But for a frightening several minutes there, his mind had been unnaturally blank.

I couldn't help but shiver.

So this is what Edward meant, when he said vampires gave in to their instincts when they hunted—why he'd never let me see. I could understand now why he'd been so horrified when I'd asked if I could come along and watch. Edward would be on the same, eerie autopilot that Carlisle was operating on now. And  _Edward's_  autopilot wanted nothing more than to devour me whole.

I tried not to think too hard about that. But it was difficult. At least, until Carlisle became lucid enough for his taste buds to start transmitting information to his brain. And then, my full attention was sucked back into his experiences.

Carlisle abruptly slowed the rate at which he was drinking.  _This blood… tastes_ _ **awful.**_

Not unripened fruit awful. Or questionably prepared meat awful. But honest-to-god  _inedible._  It was like some unholy combination of week-old-bathwater, tree sap and dirt.

I stiffened. That was not what I'd been expecting. I mean, Edward had compared the experience of drinking animal blood to living on a diet of tofu. But this wasn't tofu—a bland, disappointing, but still nourishing food. No, this wasn't even food to begin with.

Carlisle labored to swallow the blood that was already in his mouth—managing at last to choke it down. But he couldn't drink any more. Even though a good third of the deer's blood remained. He was already on the verge of throwing up. And that just wouldn't do.

Reluctant to waste, but seeing no other option, Carlisle hesitantly dislodged his teeth from the doe's neck. Then he flopped backward, weary, and confused into the grass, several streams of viscous scarlet trickling from his lips.

_Why did that deer smell so good, but taste so bad?_ Carlisle wondered, baffled.  _And why didn't I notice the taste until I was more than halfway through draining the animal? Shouldn't I have noticed right away?_

While Carlisle fretted over recent events, I paused for a few seconds in fascination as I felt the murky liquid begin trickling through his digestive system. It was weird how acutely Carlisle could feel the blood moving through his own body. But the route it took was even weirder.

Rather than filtering from his stomach into a series of long, winding intestines, the blood Carlisle had just consumed went straight from his stomach to his heart, through a tube I didn't think the human body had.

At first, I panicked, thinking that something was horribly wrong with Carlisle's body—that his transformation had somehow gone awry. The circulatory system and the digestive system weren't really supposed to overlap like that, after all.

But just as I was getting ready to scream, suddenly Carlisle's stagnant heart pulsed. The motion sent all of the blood that had poured into Carlisle's heart out to the rest of his body through his veins. And as Carlisle's cells began rapidly absorbing the blood being brought to them, I realized this must be natural for vampires. This must be how they processed their meals.

It was still really weird to experience. I'd gotten sort of used to the absence of Carlisle's heartbeat. So his sudden pulse was jarring. Especially when Edward had never mentioned that part, and his chest hadn't moved one single iota in all the many times I'd been pressed against it.

Though I soon found out why. Carlisle's heart only beat maybe three times, until all the blood he'd consumed had been pumped out of his stomach. And then, just as suddenly as it started, Carlisle's heart stilled again.

I guess it was just a temporary thing.

After Carlisle finished digesting his meal, he did feel a bit better. The heavy exhaustion that had weighed on him these past three months, lifted slightly. The fierce throbbing in his muscles turned to a dull ache. And the raging inferno in his throat quieted to the licking of a few, blistering flames.

But Carlisle knew something was still deeply wrong. And not just the disgusting aftertaste left on his tongue.

For a moment there, while the deer blood had been spreading through Carlisle's veins and capillaries, he'd started to feel something. A euphoria, not unlike the high he had heard described by users of opium, had begun building in his system. But before it could really gain any momentum, the wonderful, primal feeling had fizzled out. And that left Carlisle feeling distinctly unsatisfied.

_What was that meant to be?_ Carlisle wondered, frustrated that he hadn't been able to experience the full rush.  _I feel like something was about to happen in my system_ — _some sort of pleasure response, perhaps? But it was cut short... like the stimuli was insufficient._

Carlisle frowned. But it wasn't until he tried to stand up, that he understood why his body had denied him the pleasure he'd been anticipating.

Despite Carlisle's recent meal, his legs struggled to support his weight. His head spun with vertigo. And his neck still burned, dry and yearning.

The realization hit Carlisle like a ton of bricks. The deer blood may have helped a little, but he was still thirsty. And until that thirst was fully sated, he wasn't going to be rewarded with the sensation he'd almost felt earlier.

At first, Carlisle thought to try drinking the rest of the deer's blood, and then seeing if he could track down any of its herd-mates. Perhaps it was the  _amount_  that was the issue. Perhaps he just needed more.

But just the thought of letting any more of that revolting substance anywhere near his tongue made Carlisle's stomach churn with nausea all over again. Which meant that even if he wanted to—and he really didn't—he wouldn't be able to stomach any more deer blood.

Irritated by this turn of events, Carlisle tried, while the deer carcass by his feet began to cool, to think of an alternative. Some other way that he could sate his thirst. But the only thing that kept coming to mind was the one thing Carlisle could not stomach for entirely different reasons.

_Human_ blood, Carlisle  _knew_  would give him the satisfaction he craved. Every cell in his body screamed for it. And his instincts hadn't shut up about how good it would taste for months.

But, while killing a deer was something Carlisle had done often enough in his human life—he'd always been fond of venison—killing a human was something he'd never done before. And something he didn't want to start doing either.

Unlike killing animals—which Carlisle saw as perfectly acceptable, as long as you weren't doing it to be cruel or wasteful—killing humans was wrong. And even if Carlisle was already predestined for Hell, he wasn't about to turn his back on basic goodness. That would mean giving up the entirety of who he was.

Carlisle's shoulders slumped. And he sank his head into his pale hands in despair.

Though it was totally foolish, for a moment, he'd allowed himself to hope. To believe that maybe he could give up his futile effort of starvation. That maybe he could find some way to make the existence he did not seem able to escape a bearable one.

But now he had to deal with the crushing blow of reality.

_I guess, I should go back to my cave and try to starve myself again,_ Carlisle thought morosely _._ It was the only option he saw left. _Though maybe this time I should hold my breath. I don't need it. And if I keep smelling forest creatures… I'll keep losing progress._

_I've already set myself back at least by a few weeks by attacking this deer._

Slowly, Carlisle trudged back to his damp, boring cave. Like before, he didn't stop once to admire the beautiful landscape around him. But now he didn't even try to push the branches that blocked his path out of his way. He let them smack his face, as he walked. And while the sensation was more unpleasant than painful, I couldn't help but feeling like Carlisle was doing it to punish himself.

When Carlisle finally reached the cave again, the sun was setting, staining the sky a brilliant assortment of oranges, purples and pinks. But he only gave the breathtaking vista the barest of glances, before he disappeared back into his dark, lonely hidey-hole. And resumed his pitiable position on the floor.

_God, if you still hear my prayers, please, let my death come soon,_ Carlisle begged as he curled up on the cold, unforgiving ground.  _This pain… I cannot bear it._

_I want to die._

…

Despite Carlisle's promise to hold his breath, so he could finish what he had started, a mere two days later, Carlisle gasped at something he saw reflected in the cave puddles. And, though his mouth was only open for a few seconds, immediately, Carlisle was overcome by the smell of another, nearby forest animal. And got sucked again, into the hunt.

This time, it was a bear that died. But that hardly made a difference. Its blood was just as unpalatable as the deer's had been—this time he was only able to drink half, before his gag-reflex forced him to give up. And to Carlisle's intense vexation, those same budding feelings of delight from before were once again cut devastatingly short.

Furious with himself for being so weak, Carlisle once again went back to his cave. But in another two weeks, the cycle repeated with another animal. And after a few months of this, Carlisle was starting to believe it wasn't a pattern he could break.

And I couldn't help but agree.

The thing that had startled Carlisle about his appearance those two days after attacking the deer was such a simple thing—the color of his eyes. After Carlisle drank animal blood, his eyes turned a rich golden color. Then, over the course of two weeks they would gradually fade, first to a butterscotch, then to a color that was almost brown, and finally back to obsidian—the color of starvation.

And whenever that two week cycle was up, no matter what methods Carlisle tried to prevent himself from sensing nearby animals, fate always seemed to conspire to find a way. To force him to devour something else, and begin the cycle anew.

Carlisle wished many times that he could gut his own instincts. Perhaps animal blood could serve as a stop-gap, to sustain vampires who had no other choice. But it could not fully satisfy his thirst. And he was getting really tired of constantly starving, then gaining back a modicum of strength, before going right back to starving again.

It was agonizing, living this way. But as time wore on, it grew increasingly obvious to Carlisle that dying from lack of nourishment just wasn't going to happen. Not unless every last living mammal suddenly disappeared from the planet.

And since  _that_  wasn't going to happen, Carlisle finally decided, when the summer leaves began to turn the fiery colors of autumn, that something needed to change.

_Maybe I should just give in to what my instincts want,_ Carlisle thought that chilly October afternoon, after attacking and draining a badger.  _Then, finally, I can be at peace._

The idea of drinking human blood had become more appealing with every day Carlisle went without it. And every time he fed, and that strange, delicious euphoria sparked, and died, his moral reservations against the idea seemed less and less important. But they still wouldn't cave.

_No,_ Carlisle's conscience insisted.

_Oh please, I'll find someone on death row, or someone who's very old. Someone almost dead anyway. What could be the harm…?_

_No. No. No._ Carlisle's conscience was adamant.  _We are not going down this path. If you start justifying murder, you won't stop. Before you know it, you'll be killing babies in their cradles, and pregnant women._

Carlisle frowned. His conscience had a point.  _Where on earth did one draw the line?_

And more importantly how on earth was one supposed to draw it anywhere at all, when their instincts wanted them to devour the first human they saw? If Carlisle so much as neared a human city in his current condition, someone would die—that was practically guaranteed. But he wasn't going to be able to choose who he killed. His instincts would choose for him. And they didn't differentiate between the old and the young, or the guilty and the innocent.

Carlisle groaned.  _Why must I live through this hell? Can I forget my pain for one second?_

It was obvious he was in agony. And I felt for him acutely.

But just as I was starting to worry that Carlisle might go down a dark path to find relief, something triggered in his brain. I wasn't sure exactly what it was—it felt kind of electrical. But it happened at the exact moment he thought the word  _forget_.

As soon as that word entered Carlisle's mind, suddenly, as if it was a military officer responding to the command of a superior, the pain in Carlisle's throat evaporated.

Well, not completely. There was an infinitesimal scratching sensation left behind—a trace of the former pain that would probably never go away. But this new level of pain was so minimal it almost wasn't there at all. And it was entirely bearable.

Carlisle blinked a couple of times and sat up.

_The pain… it's gone?_ he and I both thought in unison.  _What happened?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with another chapter! Enjoy!

CHAPTER FIVE: UNEXPECTED GIFTS

…

_Carlisle has a theory…_

_He believes that we all bring something of our strongest human traits with us into the next life_

_Where they are intensified—like our minds, and our senses._

_He thinks that I must have already been very sensitive to the thoughts of those around me._

_And that Alice, had some precognition, wherever she was._

\- Edward, Twilight Chapter 14

…

I felt something icy twitch infinitesimally against my palm. And this time, it was actually  _my_  hand—the one back in the turret room in Volterra—that was feeling the sensation, rather than Carlisle's.

Whatever was twitching against my hand, moved again. And I realized after a while that it was Lucretia's little fingers. I loosened my grip, so she wouldn't feel trapped—though it wasn't like I could hold her against her will, anyway, given her vampiric strength. And as soon as I let go, she pulled back from my grasp.

Instantly, the dead badger lying at Carlisle's feet, and autumn forest outside of London disappeared. And the sienna colored walls, and the large crowd of Volturi ensconced within them snapped back into my vision.

I blinked a few times to adjust my eyes. Then I looked expectantly at Aro, who was standing, right where I'd left him, and still holding Titania's little hand.

"What happened at the end there?" I asked right off the bat. All other questions could wait.

Aro, rather than deigning to answer himself, looked to Edward. "Do you wish to tell her?"

Edward, who was still being restrained by Felix and Demetri, made an exasperated noise. "No. But you really aren't going to give me a choice."

Aro smiled, glad that Edward seemed to be catching on. "Not really."

My eyes flicked expectantly toward Edward. And I begged him to explain. "I don't know how much of that you saw," I wasn't sure if he could keep track everyone's minds in a formation like that, "But Carlisle just… forgot his pain after drinking animal blood. How did he do that?"

Edward winced, like my words physically hurt him. Then he sighed. "There is one more thing Carlisle didn't tell you about his transformation…"

My eyes widened.  _There was more?_

Edward guiltily averted his eyes before he continued. "…Carlisle's not just a normal vampire."

"W-what do you mean?" I sputtered pathetically in response.

_Not a normal vampire?_  I thought frantically.  _Was Carlisle a different species of vampire? Different from the Volturi, and Victoria? Or did Edward mean something else?_

"He's like Alice and I," Edward explained. "He has a…  _special talent_ ," he clarified, pointedly. "That's how he was able to deal with the pain."

I wanted to bury my face in my hands in embarrassment. That made a whole lot more sense than any of my harebrained theories. Not to mention it should have been obvious.

Carlisle always had a reputation in the vampire world that I never fully understood. The Denali coven seemed to treat him with a great deal of respect. The kind of respect that only made sense if he held something over them. And the Volturi, despite having obvious interest in Edward's and Alice's gifts, and having a rather impressive arsenal of powers themselves, had left the Cullens well alone.

"…And you guys decided not to tell me because, what… it was  _too cool_  for me to handle?" I asked incredulously.

This earned a gentle shake of Alice's head. And a little smirk from Aro.

"Too creepy?" I offered instead.

This time I received a more adamant shake from Alice. Although that wasn't as comforting as intended. Alice had the ability to see the future in disturbing and vivid ways. So perhaps she wasn't the best judge of what constituted "creepy" or not.

"You thought I wouldn't be able to keep my mouth shut about it?" I countered quickly, my tone clipped with mounting anger. I was tired of guessing.

This time it was Edward who shook his head. His short russet locks rustled slightly at the movement.

"No, The Volturi have been aware of Carlisle's gift since the seventeen-hundreds. And no human would ever believe you."

He spoke as though it was obvious—which it was. I had already deduced as much.

But his eyes visibly dulled with the all-to-familiar  _you're an idiot_  look. And his negative assessment of my intelligence made me want to punch him— _hard._

But I knew that would probably only result in a badly broken hand. Which would be horribly embarrassing. So I didn't even try.

Seeing that I was not satisfied with his answer, Edward continued with a soft sigh, "Anyone else's knowledge of this is... irrelevant."

"Then why?" I demanded.

I failed to understand why I had been left in the dark when I saw no reason for it. Edward, Alice and Jasper had all been forthcoming with their gifts. So what on earth did Carlisle possess that he thought would be better for me to remain unaware of?

"Carlisle's gift is… kind of unsettling," Edward began carefully.

My eyes widened to golf-ball proportions in alarm.

"He never uses it to intentionally cause harm," Edward quickly clarified. "But once you know about it, it can kind of drive you insane. Which is why the Volturi haven't tried to recruit him. Or gone near him in almost three hundred years, for that matter…."

My heart hammered in my chest as I tried to imagine the gentle Carlisle I had always known as possessing something so horrifying that he sent truckloads of vampires and humans alike drooling and screaming off to mental institutions. I simply couldn't accept that Carlisle—good, kind, compassionate, Carlisle—would have a talent like that.

It was far too sadistic for him.

"He has the power to mess with your sanity?" I asked, refusing to believe it.

At least, not until Edward directly confirmed it.

"…Not precisely…." Edward seemed slightly confused by my assumption, however he swiftly recovered.

I, on the other hand, let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.

A slight frown curled down the corners of Edward's lips as he continued. His voice was as icy as his skin. And gravely serious.

"Carlisle's talent is the ability to change sensory input to the brain. To alter perception. Or, to put it more, simply, the ability to manipulate thoughts."

I gasped—loudly.

Of all the "unsettling" abilities the kind-hearted, vampire doctor could have had, something like that had never crossed my mind. I had assumed that his talent would be something I already recognized in him. Perhaps something to explain his remarkable medical skills. Or his incredible restraint near human blood.

But  _manipulating thoughts?_ Never in a million years would I have pictured that.

Certainly it wasn't overtly cruel. And I understood at once what Edward had meant when he said Carlisle didn't  _intend_  any harm with it. But it couldn't be considered a wholly benevolent gift either.

Any power that involved messing around inside someone's head seemed like a horrendous violation of the right-to-privacy. But a power that could  _change_  what you thought—what you perceived—went even further. It violated the right to trust your own senses. To trust what you had seen with your own eyes and heard with your own ears.

As I pondered it, I was blown away as the ramifications of such an ability. And I was beginning to understand why one's sanity was in danger from knowing about such a power. Perception was the only tether a person had to reality. And if someone couldn't trust their own minds, then they couldn't trust anything they experienced to be real...

Without that security, it would be easy to slip into paranoia. Everything would be thrown into question. Every new sensation could just be an elaborate illusion. And even the most benign of situations could be construed as the result of some nefarious plot.

It would be maddening to deal with. And if there was no reprieve, effectively one would be rendered incapable of distinguishing fantasy from reality.

And that, would drive anyone insane.

I swallowed thickly.  _Now that was a decent enough reason to keep me in the dark_ , I conceded fearfully.

Uninterested in allowing me further time to process—for which I was actually grateful, in this rare instance—Edward rushed on in his description of Carlisle's abilities.

"Carlisle can edit thoughts in real-time—like you saw in that memory, where he was replacing his experience of pain with a lack thereof. But he can also alter occurrences in other peoples' minds after-the-fact. He can tap into your mind's recollection of the past and make it so that your real memories are replaced with something else."

I gasped. That was even worse. "He can overwrite memories?"

Edward nodded. "Even hundreds of years later."

I blanched. No wonder the Volturi wanted nothing to do with him.

Although the ability to alter memories might be extremely useful to an organization dedicated to preserving the secrecy of the supernatural, there were too many risks that came with Carlisle's power. There was no way the guard could trust that Carlisle wouldn't modify  _their_  thoughts and experiences, too. And the paranoia that would result would cripple the Volturi.

I struggled to absorb this revelation before Edward plowed ahead once again, spewing out more information.

"Carlisle has to touch you to use his powers. But as with Aro's gift it can be any sort of touch. As long as it's skin-to-skin. A handshake, a hug, while healing an injury—you would never think it was strange." Edward finished with a dark emotion seething in his eyes.

I shuddered. It wasn't comforting to know that every seemingly innocent brush of skin I had shared with Carlisle could have been initiated with ulterior motives.

"There are, however, two integral differences between our powers," Aro cut in, a delicate frown marring his beautiful features. "The first is that once Carlisle has touched, and altered someone's memories once, he can block out all future reiterations of an idea he's overwritten."

I scrunched my brows together in confusion. I wasn't sure what he was getting at. "Reiterations?"

"For example, if Carlisle has helped Edward forget his thirst once… Carlisle's influence can still exert itself over Edward to make him forget thirst in the future, without an additional touch," Aro explained. "Provided, of course, that it is the same type of thirst."

I nodded. That made sense. It was like a perception filter. Or an on-going  _Obliviate._

"And the second difference between my power and Carlisle's is that when I touch another, I experience all of their memories whether I desire it or not—I have no control over my gift."

I was surprised to hear how sad Aro sounded about that. I guessed there must be times when receiving an involuntary flux of thoughts was a burden, rather than a blessing.

"Our dear Carlisle however—" Aro's voice suddenly became inflamed with a dark, passionate envy, "—can  _choose_  whether his touches alter perception, or if they do not."

"Is there any way to tell the difference?" I asked.

I hated the idea that any interaction with Carlisle could either be entirely harmless, or mentally ruinous. And although I doubted I would allow him to come anywhere near me for a  _very_  long time, in light of this new information, I wasn't sure I wanted to completely destroy our friendship.

If I had some way of knowing for certain that I was safe...

But Aro shook his head.

"From Carlisle's mind I have learned that his mind-altering touches are usually longer: more lingering than is necessary—but otherwise they are indistinguishable from those that do not perform any alterations," Aro offered sadly.

His eyes were brimming with sympathy to my plight. And I guessed he understood my desire to retain some form of companionship with Carlisle. But he also appeared to believe it would likely only end in bitter mistrust and pain. And that made me wonder if Carlisle's abilities were part of the reason for the dissolution of their friendship.

Carlisle had told me that he and Aro had parted ways over a disagreement in terms of diet. That Aro was unable to cope with Carlisle's rejection of vampires' "natural" sustenance. And Carlisle could not stand to live with heartless murderers.

But now I couldn't help but wonder if that was the whole story. Maybe a difference in diet wasn't the only thing that dealt their friendship the fatal blow. Being unable to trust that your friend would not tamper with your thoughts and memories could definitely do that too.

While I mused about Aro and Carlisle's botched friendship, and how Aro still spoke fondly of the Cullen patriarch, despite the way it had ended, Alice unexpectedly entered the conversation.

"In other words," she added, "...Carlisle can alter someone's thoughts or memories with  _any_  touch, but does not do so with  _every_  touch."

Edward, to acknowledge that his sister was correct, gave a brief, tight-lipped nod.

_Any touch, but not every touch_ I pondered with fright.  _That too, has got to drive everyone around him insane._

With no way to tell the difference, and with Carlisle's gentle, gracious personality, it would seem paranoid and rude to refuse to touch him when social customs called for it. But every touch would be tainted by fear. Because you would never know if anything had changed. If he tampered with your mind, you wouldn't remember what he had replaced.

All you would know was that it was  _possible_  that Carlisle had made you forget something very important, or made you believe something that never happened, or placed a perception filter on you. But without a guarantee either way, even the tiniest moments of contact would fall under scrutiny.

Which led to an important question— _what if Carlisle made you forget that he had touched you too?_

"Carlisle's power does have limitations, though," Edward told us.

_Good,_ I thought. _Because it would be rather scary if it didn't._

"One main limitation is that Carlisle, can only edit thoughts in real-time while he is touching you. Or after he's placed a specific perception filter on you," Edward explained. "Everything else he might want to change he'll have to do after the fact. And his after-the-fact memory alteration has more limits."

"Such as?" I prompted.

"Well, Carlisle can only change what you experience with your senses, not your emotions…."

_So all the emotions in my memories are unaltered_.

That was a great comfort, since it assured that my love for Edward hadn't been a lie, even if I no longer felt it. But I still felt the urge to squirm at the thought that some of the tastes, touches, smells, sounds and sights recorded in my brain could be mere fabrications. Everything I could remember seemed so real…

"…And because of this limitation," Edward continued, "If Carlisle is using a past memory, instead of a current one, he has to work with what you've already felt."

Seeing the blank, bewildered look on my face, Aro jumped in to explain.

"If Carlisle takes away the pain of Edward's thirst while it is happening, then naturally Edward will not become irritated, or upset. But if Carlisle hadn't placed that perception filter on young Edward, and were to try and interfere later, then Edward's emotions would limit what Carlisle could plausibly replace those memories with."

Edward snorted at Aro and rolled his eyes.  _Of course Aro would use_ _ **that**_ _example,_ his face seemed to say.

Aro paused, and raised his eyebrows conspiratorially. "After all, it would be strange to remember feeling all the emotions associated with thirst—anxiety, desperation, aggression—but in the absence of the sensory input of thirst itself."

_Yeah, I can see how that would be suspect._

Edward frowned. He obviously didn't like the direction this conversation was going.

But before he could redirect it, I asked, "So, if Carlisle is altering the past, he has to come up with an alternate story that fits the emotions that have already been felt?"

To my surprise, Aro and Edward both nodded.

Then Edward continued with his ruthless barrage of data. "To avoid this, Carlisle once tried to create a whole new event in someone's mind once instead of replacing one. But he quickly discovered that a memory without emotion is hardly a memory at all. Without emotion, experiences are meaningless, sterile and disorienting. So the person Carlisle gave this new 'memory' to immediately knew it was fake."

My eyebrows shot up at this.  _So it is possible, to tell if a past memory has been altered if it's done badly enough._

The idea that there was some hope for distinguishing the truth from the lies caused a wave of relief wash over me. But it died quickly. That reassurance honestly wasn't much. The present was still very much in the air. And I trusted Carlisle didn't botch very many memories  _now_ , having had over three-hundred years of practice.

I exhaled slowly to calm myself. "So, basically what you're saying is if Carlisle want to replace a memory, the replacement memory should not be at odds with the original emotions. Or else the memory will feel off. Right?"

"Exactly." Edward nodded. Though he didn't look happy about it. "It isn't really normal to feel nothing but contentment when your wife is being brutally murdered before your eyes…"

Edward's morbid analogy was followed by a heavy silence.

I sucked in a breath.  _Had Carlisle ever fabricated a memory like that?_

Although it was marginally better to simply make someone  _think_  their wife was dead, than to actually  _kill_  her, that was such a… dark thing for Carlisle to do. _It's like… psychological torture._

Not to mention that the person would go totally insane when they found out that their wife was still alive. They wouldn't be able to trust their memories to match up with reality anymore.

I noticed, out of the corner of my eye that Caius' dark red eyes were glittering with excitement. And his lips had cracked into a wide, animalistic grin—all blindingly white teeth and no compassion. He seemed to like the more brutal uses of such a gift.

But after a few seconds, Caius' feral grin twisted into a deep scowl. He must have realized this power might be targeted at himself, rather than hapless bystanders. And he wasn't as keen on that idea.

Marcus, as usual, was decidedly unimpressed with recent revelations. However he did manage to cast a lazy glance at Caius, before shaking his head in what looked like exasperated disbelief.

After giving everyone a few moments to digest the darker possibilities of Carlisle's power, Edward broke the silence. His low, warning tone and suddenly threatening gaze startled me.

"But as long as the basic sentiment aligns with what really happened, and there aren't any sudden changes in your environment, you shouldn't be able to tell the difference between a memory Carlisle altered and the truth."

I shuddered.

_Shouldn't be able to tell the difference. How horrifying._

Edward, who seemed to be done explaining everything, languidly looked over his shoulder at Alice. To see if she wanted him to add anything else.

Alice, who seemed to find Edward's explanation adequate, offered him a cheery smile. And two gloved thumbs up.

Edward, pleased to be done, heaved an exhausted sigh. Then after a moment his shoulders sagged. And he began tapping his foot impatiently.

I wasn't sure what he was waiting for. But I was too absorbed in trying wrap my head around all the information I had just received, to be concerned about him.

_Shouldn't be able to tell the difference_ … I shivered. I still wanted a better reassurance that I could still discern reality after that. If not, I was all but destined to completely lose my mind.

"…Wouldn't something that never happened feel fake?" I inquired, hoping to recover some of my feelings of mental security.

I was disappointed however, when Edward's response was less than one-hundred-percent affirmative.

"Sometimes," he conceded partially. "That is why Carlisle prefers to keep as many things the same as possible, and only alter memories he was or is present for. Well… unless he has no other choice."

Edward finished on a foreboding note. And it made me wonder what situations led Carlisle to think he had "no other choice."

And I also wondered why my discovering the truth that the Cullens were vampires didn't make the list.

If the only real law in the vampire world was to prevent knowledge of their kind from falling into human hands, then my deductions were not only dangerous to myself, but possibly life-threatening to the entire clan. So why would Carlisle leave me with that knowledge? Why would he let me know things that could get him killed?

_Had he missed his window to alter my memories in real time? Maybe. But was it really impossible to invent a situation where I would naturally feel the same shock? A situation that didn't involve the truth?_

_Or was there another reason Carlisle allowed me to retain my knowledge…?_

"It takes a lot of finesse to fabricate realistic memories, because believability is all in the fine details," Edward said suddenly, attempting to satisfy my unasked questions. "But he's gotten pretty good at it in the last hundred years."

My eyes widened. "He's practiced on you?"

"No," Edward clarified quickly. "Aside from helping me forget some thirst pains in the moment, he's never altered my thoughts... At least, I don't think so..."

Edward's face twisted with obvious concern and distrust. And I didn't blame him—there really was no way to know.

"Carlisle says that he likes to keep my memories as pure as possible, so that he's not the only one with an accurate recollection of the past," Edward told us. "But whether or not that is true, I can't say..."

Again, Edward frowned in frustration. And suspicions of betrayal flickered in his black eyes.

But for once I wasn't sure his paranoia was warranted. Despite Edward's mistrust, it made sense that Carlisle wouldn't want to be the only one who knew the truth. If Carlisle was the only one who knew, he would be barred from discussing it with anyone. And that was bound to drive him crazy.

There was also the side-benefit that letting Edward in on the truth provided Carlisle with someone to cover for him if he ever slipped up. I could imagine, given his limitations, that there might be situations Carlisle might be unable to rectify with his powers. Situations that required another person to step in.

However, the most compelling reason for Edward's mind to be left unadulterated was that his telepathy would make it difficult to keep the truth from him for long anyway. It certainly wasn't  _impossible_  to do. Hell, Alice had managed it. But it was such an immense hassle to hide things from a telepathic vampire. And I had no doubts that Carlisle wouldn't attempt it with something as serious as this.

"However," Edward went on. "I can see in the minds of others that they believe the memories he's replaced to be as real as the rest."

I wasn't sure who these "others" were. But it was discomforting to consider that perhaps that the other the Cullens were not aware of the whole, unmodified truth, even though Carlisle clearly thought of them all as family.

But it was even more disturbing to realize that I was neither family—despite Alice's declaration on the airplane that she already considered me her sister. Nor did I have any power like Edward's that necessitated me being "in the know".

Which led me to the question I'd been burning to ask since the beginning of this terrifying revelation.

"H-has Carlisle used this power on me?"

My voice was barely more than a whisper. And it shook violently with trepidation. But I knew that everyone in the room had heard it with their outrageous super-hearing.

Edward ducked his head. "No. He  _can't_." There was hard edge to his voice.  _Jealousy._  "You're immune."

I felt awash with the strangest mix of relief and horror. "He  _tried_?"

Edward rolled his eyes. "Of  _course_  he tried. He  _knew_  you'd seen more than you were supposed to when I saved you from being crushed by that van."

I frowned. I  _had_  seen more than I was supposed to. And of course that was rather early—before Edward had decided he wanted me. Before he had decided to introduce me to his world. So I could hardly fault Carlisle for trying to alter my memories  _then._ He was only trying to keep his family safe.

But still. The idea that Carlisle had intended to use one of those tiny brushes of skin while he checked my vitals in the hospital to alter my mind made me deeply unsettled.

And I felt even sicker when I realized the other implication. I used to think it was strange that no one remembered seeing Edward halfway across the lot—something I'd originally attributed to my obsession with him. But now I knew there could be another reason no one had seen him there. Another reason why everyone insisted, without fail that Edward had been right next to me the whole time.

Because Carlisle had altered their memories of the event too, when they'd all piled into the hospital to come see me.

I swallowed and turned to Aro. "Okay, but what does this all mean?" Obviously he was forcing Edward to bring this up for a reason. "If Carlisle can change past memories and thoughts in real-time, then—?"

"Then Carlisle is constantly modifying his own memories to replace his thirst with near-satisfaction," Aro cut in. "And he has, on many occasions, used his gifts to help the others on his diet deal with their discomfort."

My heart sank as I realized what Aro was getting at. "So what you're saying is..." I choked. This was hard to say. "Without memory modification… Carlisle's diet… is unsustainable?"

Aro nodded. And the most disturbing look of glee split across his face.

I gulped.

"Do you doubt what you have seen with your own eyes?" Aro prompted.

_Did I?_ I wondered, trying to sort out my feelings.

I was disturbed by how mislead I had been about living on animal blood. When Edward had said animal blood tasted like tofu, he had been uncharacteristically generous. From Carlisle's memories it seemed that the blood, though one could certainly choke it down, was the most unpalatable thing I had the misfortune of tasting.

Also, when Edward had said that it "keeps us strong, but we're never fully satisfied" I had no idea how true that statement was. Without using his gift, Carlisle's throat, even recently after he fed, was always aflame. And even with it, it only blocked out most of the pain—a small portion still bled through.

Which couldn't be healthy.

Not to mention, I had felt the significant decrease in strength—the one Aro had mentioned earlier—for myself. When he first awoke as a newborn, Carlisle's body had felt utterly unstoppable. But even after several months of drinking animal blood, Carlisle's body never quite got back up to that point. His movements—though still swift compared to humans—were lethargic. And his muscles ached, even shortly after a meal.

Given these circumstances, and what Aro wanted me to believe—that all the Cullens suffered like this—I couldn't understand how they'd managed to beat James. I guess he must have been weakened by hunger—he was planning to drain my blood, after all. And to be fair, it had taken more than half of the Cullens working in tandem to take him down.

I frowned. I could easily understand now why Aro thought drinking animal blood was wrong. Having experienced it myself, I could say with a surety that it didn't feel natural at all.

But that didn't make the alternative any less horrifying.

I shook my head. My lips were trembling too much to speak.

"Do you require any further proof?" Aro asked patiently. "Or shall we proceed?"

I blanched at the word  _proceed_. I had a fairly good idea of what Aro meant by that. He wanted to transform me into a vampire, so he could use my powers. And in light of recent information, I also knew another horrifying truth.

Aro wanted to make me into a murderer.

Desperate to stall for more time, I waved my hands vigorously in front of me, and rasped, "I need more proof! Please!"

"Very well," Aro agreed. Though he didn't look to happy about it. "However, I hope that these next few experiences will alleviate your doubts."

I tried not to make a face. My doubts were already alleviated—Carlisle's diet didn't work the way I'd been told it did. But I wasn't about to tell Aro that.

As I struggled to keep an impassive face, I felt my distant mental barrier slowly slipping from my tenacious hold. It wobbled in place, a few feet away. And threatened to rush back to my mind at full force, and block out Lucretia and Titania.

_"_ Calm yourself, my dear _,"_  Aro soothed, suddenly.

He wasn't touching me. So he couldn't read my mind. But he could pick up on my increased heartrate, and accelerated breathing.

I took a deep breath. And propelled my mental shield even further across the room.

"Good," Aro praised as my biorhythms returned to normal. "Now, pay close attention to what I am about to show you. It would be such a terrible waste for you to misunderstand, especially with your upcoming transformation…"

I swallowed again as I registered his meaning. Aro didn't want me to "misunderstand" and attempt to live on a diet of animal blood when I was finally made into a vampire. He wanted to make absolutely sure that when I was changed that I would choose as he did, to consume human blood.

My head spun with the dizzying sensation of panic. I didn't want that. I didn't want to kill my fellow humans. Killing people was wrong. Killing was what evil people did. Not good, nice, average people. Not people like me.

But Aro desired that grisly outcome. And I would later learn that Aro always got his way, sooner or later.

While I silently panicked, Lucretia placed her hand back in mine—completing the chain. Then the world around me blurred. And once again, I found myself in an unfamiliar place, in an unfamiliar time.

…

The same cinnamon brown brick that made up most of the buildings in Volterra, as well as the castle-turret I'd been standing in just moments before spanned across my vision. But this was not the same room. It was about half as large. It wasn't circular. And it wasn't nearly as dark.

Rather than relying on natural light, twenty or so wrought iron candelabras had been placed around the sides of the room. They were spaced evenly, a few feet apart. And they were rather intricate, standing up from the stone floor like flowery metal trees, flickering orange light and dripping with wax.

If I had to hazard a guess, I would say we were somewhere else in the Volturi fortress. The coolness and mustiness of the atmosphere made me certain we were underground. And again, there was a significant dearth of furniture in this room. Which would make sense, since vampires really didn't need to sit.

But I couldn't tell—at least, not right away—whose memory this was. The sharp, crystal clarity of everything in my line of sight made me pretty sure that this memory belonged to a vampire. There was no way any human eyes could see this well. And I felt like it was safe to wager that they were a member of the Volturi, given our location.

But since the only other people in the room were two, dark-haired female bodyguards, flanking my sides, there was no telling  _which_ member of the Volturi I was inhabiting at this moment. Except that they were obviously an important enough member to protect.

_Could I be inside_   _Caius' head? Or Marcus'?_

I knew right off the bat that I wasn't in Carlisle's memories again, because, as it so happened, Carlisle was standing right in front of us. Which was surprising, but not exactly helpful.

I was glad to note that he looked a lot better than he had in those lonely days in the London forests. His platinum blonde hair was combed rather than mussed and filled with leaves. His clothes, rather than consisting of only soiled and tattered boots and trousers, were spotless and complete—shirt, waistcoat, jacket, breeches, socks, and shoes. And those same clothes, while perhaps not following the latest trend, or made of the finest materials available, were distinctly appropriate for the early 1700s.

But the person whose memories I was in—my host, you could say—rather than focusing on Carlisle's improvements, could only stare at what they saw as curious imperfections.

My host had never seen anyone with irises the color Carlisle's were now—a fresh, vibrant gold. And something was wrong with his skin. It was a slight tint greener than vampire flesh ought to be. Such an infinitesimal difference in hue that it would be impossible for humans to notice.

But I was seeing through a vampire's eyes now. And from that perspective, Carlisle's skin didn't look healthy.

At all.

I felt my host's lips tugging down at the corners.

We gave Carlisle another once over. And my host came away disturbed.  _Golden eyes? I have never seen such a thing. What do they mean?_

The world zoomed in on Carlisle's eyes again. Besides being an unusual color, they didn't look that weird to me. They weren't bloodshot. Or oozing pus. So I wasn't sure why my host thought they were so unsettling.

They  _did_ have a dusting of lavender underneath them—a pattern reminiscent of someone who hadn't gotten the best night of sleep. But I didn't think that was strange. All vampires I'd encountered had those. Including the Volturi.

And Carlisle's under-eye-markings weren't even very dark, since he had fed so recently. I knew that those dark circles could get a lot darker, when the Cullens got thirsty.

My host didn't agree.

_I have no idea what this man could have consumed to make his eyes that color. I only know of one axis—between red and black/sated, and starving. But evidently gold does not mean his thirst is fully sated. Or else his dark circles would have vanished._

I jolted at this influx of information.  _The traces of purple around the Cullen's eyes, even when they were fully fed, meant they weren't getting enough nutrition?_  Is that what my Volturi host was saying?

_Then why do Aro and his guard have them?_

It didn't make sense. Every last one of the vampires convened in that turret room had the same pale smattering of lavender under their eyes. So it seemed impossible for my host to be right.

_Unless… all the Volturi are hungrier than I thought?_

Somewhere back in my own body, I swallowed. I didn't like that thought.

But whenever  _this_ was, and whoever's body I was feeling now, their throat didn't move at all. I still wasn't sure who my host was. But they were too focused on the stranger in front of them—the person I knew to be Carlisle, but they didn't—to give me any clues to their identity.

"I was told that you, sir, are the head of this coven?" Carlisle said somewhat uncertainly. He didn't seem to know if those were quite the right words.

"And who might you be?" a voice that felt like it was coming from my own throat asked. But it wasn't my voice. It was too musical, too soft. A sound like feathers….

_Wait… I know that voice!_ I thought.

Carlisle beamed radiantly. "I am Carlisle Cullen. And I am told you are Aro. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, sir."

He seemed unsure as to whether or not he should bow or curtsy. In the end, he settled on holding out his hand for a handshake—which I thought was a pretty bold move. Carlisle was giving a member of vampire royalty the acknowledgement of equals…

But Aro didn't take offense. In fact, at the sight of Carlisle's proffered hand, a rare happiness flooded his being. A happiness so strong it made me dizzy.

I took that to mean that most people didn't usually offer to shake hands with Aro. And, having met him myself, I could understand that. When it only took one touch for him to read every thought you'd ever had, it was only natural to be hesitant to make contact.

Taking the gesture as an invitation, Aro floated a little closer to Carlisle.

Aro's bodyguards trailed along behind their master and eyed Carlisle suspiciously as they approached. But they made no move to stop either vampire from touching each other. And they were eerily silent, aside from their whispering of their cloaks over the stone floor.

"A pleasure to meet, you too, Carlisle," Aro said, reaching out with his own hand.

Carlisle, who had no clue about Aro's powers—and therefore no reason to hesitate—took Aro's hand instantly and gave it a cordial shake. He did look a little surprised at the contact. But I guessed this was probably the first time Carlisle had touched another of his kind. And he was unprepared for how vampire flesh felt against his own.

But while Carlisle was marveling over how strange Aro's skin felt, Aro was having another experience entirely.

I felt like we'd been hit by a freight train. Suddenly all of Carlisle's memories were pouring in. And they didn't filter into Aro's head in chronological order, like I was expecting. Instead, they all played at the same time, in a cacophony of sensation and sound.

Aro's immortal brain had no problem keeping up. Which impressed me. But I was struggling.

It was impossible to make out anything anyone was saying in any of memories—everyone was talking over each other. And it was hard to know where to look.

Images from all different points in Carlisle's memory bombarded my sight in every direction. I saw him as a young child, gazing at his reflection in a small puddle on the side of the road. As a vampire studying medicine in a night class in some distant, European university. And as an adult human, scolding his father for mistaking an innocent human for a vampire. All at the same time.

I tried to pick a spot in scope of our vision and stick with it. And as the pictures flickered past, I recognized a few memories as the ones I'd been shown earlier—from Carlisle's transformation, to those lonely months in the forest. But most of what I saw was foreign to me.

Carlisle's entire childhood was something I'd never expected to see. And everything of his human life before the vampire attack were new. As were all of Carlisle's vampire memories after he discovered he could use his thought-altering gift on himself to dull the pain of this bloodthirst. And I was surprised that Aro was letting me see all of this.

Even limited as I was by my human processing power, I was learning so much about the Cullen patriarch. Things that helped me understand Carlisle better. But also things I wasn't sure I was supposed to know.

Like how emotionally abusive Carlisle's father had been. And how that had turned Carlisle off a dogmatic approach to religion.

And how tempted Carlisle had been to turn a fellow university student into a vampire. So he wouldn't be so lonely.

As the memories rushed around us, I marveled at everything for another second that felt like an eternity. Then, without warning, Aro pulled away suddenly. And we were thrown very abruptly back into the real world.

We'd been in a whirlwind of perception for so long that I was a little surprised to see that the large, rectangular room was still there. And Carlisle too.

He smiled faintly at us, and retracted his arm.

"Sir, are the others here? Marcus, and Caius?" Carlisle asked, searching the nearly empty room in vain. "I would like to meet them too, if at all possible."

Aro who was still reeling slightly from the influx of memories himself, took a moment to respond. He was too busy marveling over the information he thought was most important from the recent exchange. That is, the reason Carlisle had golden eyes.

_This Carlisle, survives on animal blood? Disgusting. Impossible. How?_

Aro knew how, of course—he'd seen it for himself. But nevertheless it baffled him.

_His restraint is impressive. As is his ability to deny what his senses are trying to tell him. But why does he avoid his instincts? Religious devotion simply cannot account for all of that… can it?_

Aro seemed to realize then, that he was making Carlisle wait. "Pardon me, I was simply lost in thought. Though, unfortunately, I am the only one of my brothers who is here today. Caius has some… _business_  to attend to in France. And Marcus is visiting his mate in Greece."

Having the advantage of being inside Aro's head I knew "business" was apparently code for hunting some kind of creature called a "Child of the Moon". Whatever that was. His thoughts didn't really specify.

And Marcus' mate, I was surprised to learn was actually Aro's biological sister. A sister whom he'd turned himself when she was old enough. Which made me wonder if he really had done the unthinkable, and changed his very own daughters.

Regardless, her name was Didyme. And from the brief image of her I saw in Aro's thoughts, I could plainly see that she was every bit as lovely as Aro was. But the resemblance went further than the generic gorgeousness all vampires shared. She had the same tall, Grecian nose. The same pin-straight black hair that swept over her shoulders. And even his widow's peak.

In fact, the only differences I could detect were ones denoted by sex. It was like she was Aro's female twin.

While I marveled over this information, Carlisle looked at once, both embarrassed and surprised. "I am sorry to intrude, then, sir, I did not know you were so busy."

Aro made a dismissive gesture. " _I_ am not busy with anything at the moment," he said to alleviate Carlisle's concern. "And if you are willing to wait, my brothers should be returning tomorrow."

Carlisle smiled. He could have starred on the front page of a dental ad. "I would like that very much."

"However," Aro steepled his fingers together underneath his chin, "I am so curious about one thing in particular—"

Carlisle dipped his head a little, looking abashed. "It's my eyes, isn't it, sir?"

Aro, who wasn't yet ready to revel his powers, feigned surprise. "How did you—?"

Now it was Carlisle's turn to make a dismissive gesture. "Every vampire I've met thus far has been disturbed by them. But there really is no need. They simply denote the fact that I drink from animals rather than humans. In fact I am actually a little disappointed that you don't have them yourself."

Aro ignored the "revelation" about Carlisle's strange diet, (which he already knew) and cut to the chase. "Disappointed?" he prompted, genuinely baffled.

"I heard that your coven was supposed to be more 'civilized' than others?" Carlisle explained a little uncertainly.

"And who told you this?"

Aro already knew the answer—I could see it clearly in his mind. But for whatever reason, he decided to continue to feign ignorance. I still wasn't sure why—he'd been so forthcoming with me. But perhaps that was a habit he'd adopted later.

"I met a few vampires in the sewers in London who told me all about you and your coven, sir." Carlisle's pleasant expression darkened a little. He obviously didn't like them. "I was… relatively  _new_  to this life and they wanted to make sure I understood the laws that applied to me now, since my, ah—" he struggled to find the right word "— _creator_  did not tell me."

Aro nodded. That was pretty standard procedure. The Volturi held vampires liable for the actions of their creations. And no one wanted to be held responsible if they accidentally transformed someone, and that someone threatened to expose the truth to humans. So if any nearby coven found a "stray" like Carlisle, they would, at the very least, explain the rules.

"They told me everything they knew about your coven," Carlisle went on. "Who was in charge, what it is that your organization does… And no, they did not say you drank animal blood. I just…"

"You assumed," Aro finished for him.

Carlisle nodded glumly.

Then, very suddenly Aro burst out laughing.

His bodyguards stiffened at the sound.

And even Carlisle flinched a little.

"You assumed that being 'civilized' meant that we defied our very nature?" Aro asked between guffaws. Clearly, he thought the idea was absurd.

His bodyguards exchanged puzzled looks. But said nothing.

Carlisle made a sheepish gesture. "Well…"

Aro laughed again—a raucous sound. "I hate to disappoint, but no. We dine as we were designed to, on human blood."

The light in Carlisle's eyes—bright at the beginning of the conversation—faded quickly now. But there was still a small glimmer of hope in them. It flickered, like an ember on the brink of being snuffed out.

"But you do not kill for it?" Carlisle assumed. "Surely, you must have more sophisticated means—"

Aro raised a hand to cut Carlisle off. And Carlisle obediently snapped his lips shut.

I guessed the London sewer vampires had told him enough to command that level of respect.

"The tools nature has given us are sufficient," Aro said, flashing Carlisle a wicked smile.

His baring of his teeth was very deliberate. And when Carlisle saw it, all vestiges of hope drained from his face.

"Then…" Carlisle swallowed. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud.

Aro pulled his best bewildered face. "Then what?"

He knew Carlisle's objections. All of them. Intimately. But even so, Aro did not believe they were adequate. The cost of drinking animal blood was a high one. And Carlisle's logic, in Aro's mind, was severely flawed.

_Carlisle may prefer to adhere as much as possible to his human beliefs, "Thou shalt not kill" and such. But I see nothing wrong with being a little less absolute. One must, of course, take into account the circumstances…_

Partially, I agreed with Aro. I could think of a few circumstances off the top of my head where absolute morals might not be the smartest. Honesty wasn't really the best policy when people you cared about were in danger. And killing wasn't wrong in self-defense.

But I was stunned to realize that in Aro's mind, merely having the instinct to drink human blood was sufficient rationalization for habitual, human slaughter. And he was actually a bit put out that Carlisle didn't agree.

I shivered.

After several seconds of wearing a deeply nauseated expression, Carlisle's features shifted into incomprehension. "You do not see anything wrong with killing innocent humans?"

Carlisle didn't look like he could process such a thing.

And Aro thought that was probably true.  _Being heartless is just so counter to Carlisle's nature. He must have a hard time imagining anyone can be so callous. Human, or vampire._

Aro felt the urge to laugh again— _oh you naïve little boy._

But he refrained this time. He decided Carlisle probably felt awkward enough as it was. And there was no need to make him feel even worse. Not when he was already suffering….

"I find it stranger that you  _do_ ," Aro shared as delicately as possible. "I must confess that I am concerned for your welfare. A vampire that drinks only animal blood…" he shook his head. "It's as preposterous and dangerous as a lion eating only lettuce."

_Something you would surely realize if you were not denying your pain—erasing the sensation from your perception as soon as it entered your mind,_  Aro thought, but didn't share aloud.  _But I digress._

There was an uncomfortable silence following Aro's words. Then, after several minutes, Carlisle audibly swallowed. "Are going to demand that I leave?"

Aro was taken aback.  _Leave?_

He could understand where Carlisle had gotten the idea. Once they realized that Carlisle was not going to join them on their hunts, the London sewer vampires had refused to let Carlisle stay with them. A vampire that did not hunt humans was hardly a vampire at all in their eyes.

But the Volturi were not so frightened of things that challenged their traditions. In fact, if Carlisle's memories had indicated any true degree of success with the unorthodox path he had chosen, then Aro would have asked to try it himself, rather than challenged it.

_It is such an interesting idea... Convenient too, if humans ever end up in short supply._

However, the fact of the matter was, Carlisle's diet was only barely limping him along. And even that much wouldn't be possible without Carlisle's powers.

Not to mention that the memory of the taste of animal blood made Aro's stomach clench.

"Of course not." Aro splayed a hand over his chest in offense. "The Volturi are not  _that_ inhospitable. Though, after what I have told you about our diets, do you truly wish to stay?"

Carlisle seemed to mull that over for a bit. And I had to admit, Aro had a good point.  _Did Carlisle really want to stay? To hang out with murderers? To tacitly support it? Even if he did not participate or condone it himself?_

But that wasn't what Aro had been thinking, even if that was what he had said. He knew from Carlisle's memories that a hope for finding those who shared his peculiar vision wasn't the only thing Carlisle was after. Carlisle was also an academic, who'd been using his nights devouring all the world's knowledge. He was also eager to learn if all the rumors about the Volturi were true. And most significantly, he was deeply, desperately lonely.

He'd come here only  _half_ expecting to find dietary kinship. There were other things he was after. Things that were more important, shockingly. And Aro was determined to make Carlisle admit at least one of these things out loud.

Carlisle rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. Then after a while, he said. "I  _did_  hear you had a rather impressive library..."

Aro smiled. He was pretty damn proud of his library. And it gave him considerable joy to hear that it was legendary.

"Ah, that we do," Aro shared happily. "Though, naturally, I would need to have someone supervise your visits… since you are not an official member of our coven."

Carlisle seemed to think that was reasonable. "Of course."

Aro's smile faded a little. "But before I arrange an escort, I do wish to ask one more question."

Carlisle stiffened. He was obviously expecting more interrogation about his diet.

But for the moment, Aro was content to let it slide. Obviously, Carlisle needed help. But he wasn't falling over dead from malnutrition right this minute. So Aro concluded his intervention could wait.

At least, until Carlisle trusted him a bit more. Aro could hardly be as persuasive as he wanted to be when the man thought of him as a complete stranger.

"You seem like an intelligent man, Carlisle," Aro began. "So tell me, are books really the only thing we have that you want to see? Is there anything else you have heard about us that you might want to confirm?"

Aro was obviously leading Carlisle in a certain direction. He'd seen Carlisle's mind, and all of the questions he wanted to ask. And now he was trying to coax a particular one out of him.

Carlisle tapped his chin in thought. "I have heard some claims you have some among your ranks who can do more than ordinary vampires can. Some who can read minds. Some who can hypnotize people. All sorts of impossible things…"

He trailed off. Then looked Aro curiously in the eye. "Is any of that true?"

Aro smiled widely. It unnerved Carlisle the same way it unnerved me.

"My, my, our reputation precedes us, it would seem," Aro said with a chuckle. "Is that why have you come? To witness our powers for yourself?"

I got the impression from Aro's thoughts that he wasn't adverse to the idea of a little show-and-tell. Demonstrating the gifts of some of his more powerful members could be good propaganda for the Volturi. Word would spread, and would discourage even more criminals from acting out.

But another thought occurred to Aro then. He'd seen Carlisle's power at work in the younger vampire's mind over the years. And he was hopelessly intrigued.

_If he can learn to control that thought-altering power of his, he could be a powerful asset to the Volturi,_ Aro thought excitedly.  _Slaughtering whole villages that find out we exist would be a thing of the past. Which would be excellent. I do hate the waste._

My stomach roiled in protest. Aro's thoughts were practical, but cold. He didn't object to the idea of entire villages dying on principle. Just based on the fact that it hurt population numbers—numbers that needed to stay high if the Volturi wanted to ensure a constant food supply.

"Perhaps, you believe that  _your_  powers might be of service to us?" Aro asked, trying, but failing to hide the eagerness in his voice.

Aro of course knew that no such thing had crossed Carlisle's mind. Not yet. But he was going to plant that seed now. And see if it bore fruit.

Carlisle, predictably reacted with confusion. "Powers? What powers?"

Aro's bodyguards rolled their eyes. I took that to mean that Aro's acquisitive behavior was a stunningly regular habit. And, like my mother's habit of picking up fad diets, kind of an annoying one.

Aro ignored them.

"Your ability to…  _alter perception_ …?" he drawled slowly, putting special emphasis on the last two words.

Carlisle blinked, though he didn't need to. "Pardon?"

Now it was Aro's turn to be surprised.

"Surely you must have noticed?" he insisted. "Your body cries for blood— _human_  blood—" Aro felt the need to specify, because of Carlisle's diet. "—and yet, for forty years you have used your gifts to ignore it."

Aro seemed to forget he was trying to hide his powers. His bewilderment was too strong, I guess.

_It is most obvious that you have been doing this,_  Aro thought.  _Could it really be possible that you do not know? That you are doing this subconsciously?_

Aro was dubious. But Carlisle was the picture of confusion. "My  _gifts_?"

Aro gasped. "So you really do have no idea…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diverging a little bit more from canon here. Hope you're all still on board.

CHAPTER SIX: VISITOR

…

_Carlisle stayed with them only for a short time, just a few decades._

_He greatly admired their civility, their refinement,_

_But they persisted in trying to cure his aversion to 'his natural food source' as they called it._

_They tried to persuade him, and he tried to persuade them, to no avail._

\- Edward, Twilight Chapter 16

…

Back in the present day I raised my free hand to indicate that I wanted the memories to halt for a moment. And I tried to say something. Like, "Stop!" But my lips wouldn't move. My mind was too connected to another pair of lips—Aro's lips—to register the command to move in my own body. And of course, _his_  body wasn't going anywhere at my command.

Luckily, Aro understood automatically what I meant. Immediately, he slipped away from his daughter, Titania's grasp, breaking the chain. And when the little vampire looked like she wanted to protest, he held a single finger to his lips, and gestured to me, indicating I could speak for myself.

It took me a moment to get my bearings back. It was disorienting to be thrust, rather forcefully back into full control of my own body. But after a few seconds of blinking and twitching, I got the hang of it. And then I tried to speak again, this time with much greater success.

"Wait so, Carlisle didn't even know he was using a power?"

The idea seemed ridiculous. I mean, Aro was right. It was  _obvious_  from Carlisle's own memories that his sudden amnesia regarding the pain of his thirst wasn't natural.  _So how could Carlisle have missed it for all those years? He's not an idiot..._

"Not at first," Aro told me. "I had to explain my gifts first, and what I had seen through them. And even then, it took lots of experimenting and practice before he truly believed me."

My eyes widened in shock. I hadn't expected Carlisle to be that hard to convince. And Aro shook his head in a way that made me think he was just as dumbfounded by it as I was.

"However, were you not also unaware of your power until it was pointed out to you?" Aro pointed out.

I flushed brilliantly with embarrassment. He was right. I hadn't had any clue until today. Even after a year of being around one vampire—no  _two_  vampires—whose gifts couldn't touch me because of mine.

Of course, I could be pretty dense when it came to things like this. And I wanted to give Carlisle the benefit of the doubt.

_But maybe it really is that hard to tell,_ I considered, trying not to feel  _too_  vindicated by Carlisle's oversight.

Edward _had_  said that vampire powers were just a natural enhancement of traits the person had already possessed as a human. That he'd always been good a reading people—which is why he'd ended up with telepathy. And that Jasper was very charismatic, even as a human.

_So maybe because it's a part of us, it doesn't seem like a magical power should—weird, foreign, other…_

I could be on to something there. But whatever the case was, I frowned.  _What could have Carlisle have possessed as a human that turned into a power to alter perception?_

Could his strong resolve to do what was right—the same resolve that let him resist his instincts, and function in spite of pain—be the key? Was it possible that his resolve had been strengthened to the point that he could resist  _reality itself_?

I thought about that for a moment.

Then I sighed. "You're right. But still..."

"It is rather difficult to imagine, I know," Aro agreed quickly. "But there is much more I would like to show you. If you would allow us to continue?"

Aro dipped his hand back in the direction of Titania's tiny fingers. But the entire time his eyes were on me, searching for my approval. And it was clear he wasn't going to re-establish the connection between our minds until he received it.

Nervous about what new horrors I might see in Aro's memories, but also eager to postpone any decision about my transformation for as long as possible, I nodded shakily.

In a flash, Aro seized Titania's hand again. And as soon as his flesh collided with hers, I was back in the 1700s, viewing the world through Aro's cold, calculating eyes.

…

The memory, I was surprised to note, picked back up right where we started. It was like Aro had simply placed his recollections on pause, and was now hitting play again. And for a moment I wondered how exactly he was doing that.

I knew that his daughters were only the messengers, really, just passing along his thoughts. And I wondered how it was possible for him to keep them so orderly—in chronological order, and everything—for this playback, when he didn't receive memories that way with his powers. Hell, he didn't even think that way himself. His thoughts were so erratic…

It was probably a skill he'd honed over hundreds, if not thousands of years, I decided. And as Carlisle's bewildered face phased back into existence, I was very grateful for it. It made this whole experience a lot less confusing.

"I'm sorry, but I do not understand." Carlisle said. "You think that  _I_  have a gift?"

Aro shook his head. "I do not simply think it, I  _know_  it."

Carlisle's pale eyebrows knit together in puzzlement. "And how could you possibly know that? We've only just met!"

Aro, after letting out a little dissatisfied sigh, explained everything then. About his powers and what they let him see. And about what he was sure he had witnessed through them—that is, what Carlisle was doing inside his own mind to prevent himself from noticing the physical effects of his thirst.

The explanation took a while. After all, Aro had a lot less understanding of Carlisle's gift at this point in time. So he wasn't quite sure how to word what he'd seen. Not to mention he had to apologize several times to an offended Carlisle for not revealing his own powers sooner.

And Aro had been right before when he'd said that Carlisle hadn't believed him at first. No matter how logical Aro's arguments were, nothing seemed to be getting through to him. He was being unbelievably stubborn. And it was frustrating Aro and I both.

"Surely you must jest, sir," Carlisle said, still looking skeptical after several hours of debating the subject. "If I had talent like yours—I would have known immediately," he insisted.

"You spent the first two years of your immortality surrounded solely by animals," Aro objected politely. "And you've still not had regular contact with humans. Or even many of our kind."

"But I cannot read minds, or see relationships, or induce any emotions…" Carlisle explained, confused by Aro's insistence. "I hate to disagree with you, sir, but I do not see in myself this power you claim to see in me."

"How about an experiment, then?" Aro proposed, suddenly sweeping a hand out to his side.

Carlisle blinked once, slowly, and gave Aro a quizzical look. "An experiment? And how do you propose we would go about that?"

Aro glanced around looking for something to let him know the time. There weren't any windows in this room to let sunlight in. And a phone in his pocket was completely out of the question in this era. But there was a fancy pendulum clock hanging on the far wall—something I hadn't noticed in my initial scan of the room. And at this very moment, both ornate hands were pointing to the twelve.

_Perfect,_ Aro thought to himself.

"Caius will return to us in the next hour or so," Aro explained to Carlisle. "And he could prove an interesting test subject…"

…

Aro courteously did not make me wait an entire hour. I wasn't sure exactly what Aro and Carlisle had done during that time to occupy themselves. But before I knew it, the hour hand on the little pendulum clock was pointing to the one. And Caius was sauntering into the rectangular, candle-lit room.

The same pair of women who guarded him in the present trailed in after him, with alert expressions. I looked at them curiously this time—they still seemed too short and skinny to be a threat. But as I examined the two women closer I saw the battle-readiness in unblinking crimson eyes. And the cat-like fluidity of their movements that suggested martial-arts training. They were even wearing pants—an unusual choice for women in this century. But I surmised it would probably help their mobility.

I also took the time to note their appearances. While they exhibited the same undeathly pallor all vampires had, their skin was nowhere near as light as Caius'. Though that was hardly surprising, given that his skin was paler than Edward's—the same, shocking snowy white as his hair. In addition to their sandy skin, they had distinct East Asian features. And sleek black hair pulled up into severe buns.

My attention shifted back to Caius then. He marched in front of the two Asian vampires with his usual, imperious, and somewhat irritated air.

Which was nothing new. Caius, no matter what was happening, seemed to be perpetually angry.

But then I noticed something else—a difference in Caius in these old memories. And suddenly I was aghast.

As Caius came into the room through the gilded double-doors, one of the long black sleeves of his robes billowed loose, and empty at his side. And I couldn't understand it.

Caius in the present was most definitely was in possession of all of his limbs. But this Caius, in the 1700s, was missing his  _entire right arm_.

And it wasn't a new development either. Aro didn't react with any surprise at the absent appendage when it came into view. In fact, he did his best not to pay much attention to it. Because although it had been centuries, Caius was still rather sore about losing it.

_Centuries?_  I pondered.  _Okay, but why does he have his arm in the twenty-first century if he lost it centuries ago?_

For probably the thousandth time, I wished that Aro's thoughts in the moment weren't so incomplete. He switched so fast between different things that we never really went deep enough to let me know the interesting bits of what was going on. Like what a "Child of the Moon" was. Or why Caius' whole arm was suddenly and inexplicably gone.

"Caius, brother!" Aro cried exuberantly, and floated across the room to greet him. "How delighted I am that you decided to join us!"

Caius' bodyguards didn't react to Aro's sudden proximity to their charge. Instead, they drifted silently, like deadly ballerinas, behind their master to get a closer look at Carlisle—whom they regarded with fierce skepticism.

While the girls moved, Caius gave Aro a sour look—that much hadn't changed—and snorted. "Jane told me you required my presence?"

"Yes, Carlisle and I—" Aro gestured to where Carlisle was standing, "—were hoping you could help us test something."

Carlisle, I was surprised to note was propped up casually against one of the flat, stone walls. And was deeply engrossed in a book. I guessed Aro must have had someone fetch it for him to pass the time while they waited. And, despite being a rather hefty volume on ancient Greek medicines, it looked like Carlisle was almost finished.

He slipped a thin, satin ribbon between the pages he was on to serve as a bookmark. Then shut the book, deposited it on the floor, and looked up to see Caius, standing only a few feet away.

Caius gave Carlisle an icy, penetrating stare—full of the same misgivings his bodyguards had. Then he looked blandly at Aro.

"A new recruit?" he asked flatly.

Aro chuckled good-naturedly. "Not exactly. Carlisle is just visiting. Though… given time I may be able to convince him to join us."

Caius' bodyguards relaxed immediately. I guess they had determined that meant Carlisle wasn't a threat.

But Carlisle looked like he was about to jump out of his skin in surprise. Recruitment hadn't been part of his plans when he'd come here. And he was obviously uncomfortable with being an object of such intense collector's interest.

That made three of us. Edward and I were also not too happy with the idea of Aro acquiring us for our powers. We wanted to be free-agents, not pieces on someone else's chess board. Or trophies in someone's prize cabinet.

Hell, even Alice, who had joined the Volturi once upon a time, seemed to be uncomfortable with how  _possessive_ Aro was with her gift. And that was not something I was looking forward to. Even if I was fairly certain that my induction into the Volturi was inevitable—given the direction of my conversations with Aro thus far.

While I thought this through, Aro looked expectantly at Caius. He seemed to be anticipating some sort of reaction from the snowy-haired vampire.

But Caius, who clearly did not care either way, didn't even bother asking why Aro wanted to recruit Carlisle. Instead he just scoffed.

"And what is it that you need me for?"

Aro clapped his hands together excitedly. And whatever look was on his face—I wagered it was Aro's Cheshire-cat grin—was starting to freak the white-haired vampire out.

"Carlisle and I are going to do a little experiment."

…

Once again, Aro spared me the tedious details. The world blurred for a moment, while Aro was fast-forwarding. And when it snapped back into perfect focus again, both Aro's and Caius' bodyguards had huddled together near the room's entrance—preventing anyone uninvited from walking in. And the fancy clock hanging on the far wall indicated that several more hours had passed.

"Aro, sir, I really don't think this is going to work," Carlisle said for the umpteenth time.

The three men—Aro, Caius, and Carlisle—were standing together in the middle of the room—far away from any of the candelabras hugging the walls, or their protectors, shrouding the room's entrance. And all of them were connected in some way, skin-to-skin.

I imagined, if all three vampires had been in possession of all of their arms, they would have simply held hands in a circle—that would have been the simplest way to get everyone's tactile powers working. But Caius was missing one. So while Carlisle held Caius' only hand—the left one—in his right, and held Aro's right hand in his left, Aro had to prop his left hand against Caius' cheek for the circle to be complete.

The white-haired vampire clearly did not appreciate the cool fingers pressing against his face. And I could tell because his thoughts were pouring in through his skin. But Aro really didn't see any other way. He wanted to be able to read both Caius and Carlisle's thoughts in real-time as they experimented. And since all of Carlisle's attempts to alter Caius' perceptions without physical contact hadn't panned out, Aro figured his power was a tactile power too.

So really, this was the only arrangement that was going to work. If anything was going to work at all.

Of course, that didn't make it any more comfortable for Carlisle. He was the closest to Caius, standing only inches away. And though Carlisle, at a lofty six-foot-two, was nearly half a foot taller than Caius, Aro could tell he felt oddly small in comparison. And Aro didn't exactly blame him. Caius had a very imposing aura. And it didn't help that he kept glaring daggers at the younger vampire with his ruby-red eyes.

Carlisle flinched, and looked very much like he wanted his hand back. But he'd been instructed to keep it there by Aro. And he wasn't about to disobey vampire royalty. At least, not when his life wasn't in immediate danger.

Aro frowned. While it pleased him to a certain degree that his name alone commanded so much respect, he didn't want Carlisle to  _fear_  him.

Other vampires, especially those who might otherwise be tempted to run amok, were right to be frightened. But Aro had peered into Carlisle's very being. And although he had his reservations about Carlisle's unusual methods of feeding himself, he agreed with my assessment—that Carlisle was a truly good person who did not deserve to feel threatened, or punished.

"Brother please, Carlisle is my guest," Aro said, hoping to diffuse some of the tension between the two men. "We do not want to make him feel unwelcome."

Caius snorted. But obediently relaxed a little. And that immediately put Carlisle at greater ease.

While Aro lazily perused Caius thoughts, absorbing his recent trip to France, he turned to face Carlisle. "Humor me again, would you please?" he asked, "We have not gotten anywhere with trying to change Caius' emotions. But perhaps just an image…"

Carlisle blinked in bewilderment. "An image, sir?"

"Yes, an image!" Aro reiterated happily, enthused with his own genius. "Try to make Caius see something he isn't seeing… But keep it simple. Perhaps, you could have him picture a pear on that table over there?"

Aro briefly lifted his hand away from Caius cheek to point to a small wooden table he'd had one of his secretaries bring into the room from another part of the fortress earlier. It stood only a few feet away from the trio. And its surface was littered with assorted, small objects—a journal, a feather pen, a bowl filled with fresh grapes, a folded fan, a little music box, and an expensive bottle of perfume. Objects I guessed had featured in Aro's previous experiments.

Aro put his hand back. And reluctantly, Carlisle sighed and nodded. "A pear."

He sounded dubious. And Aro and I both knew he did not believe this effort was going to work any better than the previous attempts. But Carlisle, being the naturally accommodating person he was, decided there couldn't be any harm in trying one more time. And so he began to form the image of a pear in his mind, nestling it between the bowl of grapes and the fancy folded fan.

And then… something interesting happened.

Shortly after the image of a non-existent pear appeared in Carlisle's mind, an interesting thought crossed it a second later.

It was simple, but surprisingly effective.

_I want Caius to see this pear, on that table over there._

And just like that, Caius could see it.

His eyes bulged with disbelief. And he snarled. "What? Impossible!"

Carlisle, equally disbelieving, sputtered, "Wait, he can see it?"

"Yes!" Aro squirmed with excitement. "Oh this is excellent!"

"Make it stop!" Caius roared at Carlisle. He was seeing things that weren't there. And that petrified him with terror. "I said MAKE IT STOP!"

Carlisle, startled by Caius fierce grating voice—a voice bellowing almost directly in his ear—pulled back immediately. And the mirage of the little green pear on the table vanished from Caius' vision along with the loss of contact.

Aro was sad to see the mirage disappear. But he made no move to stop Caius as he—looking rather irritated with everyone—detangled himself from Aro and Carlisle, and stormed toward the exit. It would be pointless to try. Even with only one arm, Caius was a formidable fighter, and couldn't be restrained.

As the white-haired vampire stomped away, I thought his reaction seemed a little…  _extreme_. But Aro merely sighed. While, disappointing, he did not think Caius' reaction was unusual.

"I guess we are going to need to find someone else to experiment on," Aro told Carlisle a little sadly. "But do you concede now that you have a gift?"

Carlisle released Aro's hand, and looked down at both of his palms in wonderment. "I… I guess I must. To be honest, sir, it's still a little hard to believe… But I would like to learn more."

"Of course," Aro said with equal enthusiasm. "But perhaps another day. You wanted to see my library?"

Carlisle's eyes lit up like Christmas had come early.

...

Aro skipped ahead again. But this time the room I found us in next was not the same as before. It was much larger—almost as vast as the turret room. But significantly less empty. Tall mahogany bookcases rose around us in every direction. Several matching tables and chairs were clustered in little groupings here and there in the aisles. And in the only place that wasn't occupied by furniture—the very center of the room—sat an enormous globe.

I'd never seen anything like it before. It was as tall as I was. It was carved in some kind of dark, marbled rock—granite, maybe? And it was fixed to a fancy, metal apparatus I assumed would let it spin.

But the globe was hardly even the most interesting part of this room. And there was so much to look at, I wasn't sure if I could say what was.

Almost every bookshelf was stuffed to the point of overflowing with thick, dusty tomes—old,  _old_  books I was certain my history teacher Mr. Baxter would sell his soul for. But a few shelves carried stacks of parchment scrolls tied with coarse, aging rope. And others still had piles of what looked like dried skins and clay tablets—the very first books ever written.

Besides books, Aro also apparently collected art. He had works from every time period and every part of the world, hanging on every part of the wall that wasn't blocked by bookshelves. And gorgeous statues of all heights, shapes and styles populated every possible nook and cranny.

Someone had even painted a lovely fresco on the ceiling. Though, when I realized what it was depicting, I wanted to laugh.

The fresco reminded me a lot of the painting of the three Volturi brothers in Carlisle's study. It featured Aro, Caius and Marcus in the same, flowing white garments, and with the same contemptuous expressions. But this one was even bolder with its message. Rather than just seeming generally aloof from mortal affairs, the three men were explicitly depicted as gods, complete with golden halos, and surrounded by fluffy clouds and fat little cherubs.

_Could their egos get any bigger?_  I wondered. I doubted it.

And if all of that wasn't impressive enough, Aro also had a section dedicated to scientific specimens. He had hundreds of those creepy boards I'd seen in museums with bugs pinned to them. And thousands of glass jars of varying sizes covered the shelves in that area, filled with creatures in whole, and in part, preserved in formaldehyde.

The labels on these jars were in another language—I wasn't sure if it was Italian or Latin, but I figured one of the two was good guess. And some of the contents were so mangled and deteriorated that I had no clue what I was looking at. But some of the preserved items—especially the wide collection of human body parts—were a little  _too_  clear. And I found it hard to look away.

Of course, Aro wasn't particularly interested in those at the moment. And since he was in control, he kind of forced my hand.

Aro turned around, and the familiar shape of Carlisle filled our vision again. He was in the same clothes I'd seen him in before, so I guessed this memory took place later the same day. And he was wearing much the same expression that I imagined I would have worn in his shoes—a look of total awe and sensory overload.

"You have… quite the collection, sir," Carlisle breathed as he looked around in lazy circles, struggling to take it all in.

I felt Aro beam. "Yes. I am very proud of it," he told Carlisle happily. "And as long as you have an escort you are free to peruse it. Though I do ask of course that you be careful. Almost everything here is irreplaceable."

Carlisle nodded vigorously. "Yes, I can see that," he said, looking disbelievingly at a stack of cuneiform tablets on the shelf closest to him. "I promise I will exercise the utmost care."

Aro nodded, accepting this. And it looked like he was finished. But just as soon as I was sure he planned to let Carlisle loose, Aro spoke again.

"There is one more thing, before I let you go."

Carlisle, who was having a hard time reigning in his excitement, looked at Aro intently.

Aro, flickered his gaze toward a small section of shelves tucked away in the far corner of the room. I hadn't noticed it before now—which I later guessed was kind of the point. The shelves weren't nearly as tall there was they were everywhere else. And most strikingly the whole area was roped off with thick velvet cords. Nothing that could stop a determined invader. But enough to make an average visitor unlikely to trespass.

"You may not read or even  _touch_  anything beyond those," Aro explained, pointing to the ropes. "That is my  _private_  collection," he stressed. "And I will know if anything has been disturbed."

Carlisle gave the area Aro was indicating one long, curious look. Then, sensing Aro's disapproval, he abruptly looked away, and gave a little bob of his head.

"I understand. I won't go over there, sir."

Aro smiled faintly. Though I could tell he actually felt a little disappointed. "There is no need to call me 'sir' when it is just the two of us," he told him. "My brothers and the guard may appreciate formalities, but when we are alone, please call me Aro."

Carlisle's eyes ballooned with surprise. And he sputtered in shock. "A-are you sure that is… alright?"

"Of course," Aro said with absolute sincerity. "It may seem sudden to you, Carlisle, but I have seen the entirety of your mind, and I like what I have seen." He smiled as warmly a he could manage and hoped he wasn't coming off too weird. "If you would permit it, I want us to be friends. So please, call me Aro."

Carlisle looked like he would have blushed if he was still human. And I could tell he was deeply flattered. But I guessed he also felt like Aro's offer was out of place—too familiar for strangers with such a difference in rank. He looked as uncomfortable with the idea of dropping titles, as if Aro had asked him to suddenly strip naked.

However, to my and Aro's delight, he shook himself, and got over it.

"Very well, Aro," Carlisle said. The name, without any adornments, fell uncertainly from his lips. "Where do you recommend I start?"

…

Two months passed. And Carlisle, to Aro's delight, had taken to being a guest of the Volturi rather well. Although he was clearly not happy with some of the more gruesome things that happened here in the castle—he'd balked when the first party of humans had filed into the turret room, and tried to drown out the awful screaming—he made very few complaints.

He left the castle to hunt animals once every two weeks—something that baffled Aro. And he spent almost all of the rest of his time in the library with whichever guard member he could persuade to babysit him.

In fact, he spent so much time in there that the guard quickly became tired of being the man's chaperone. And they begged Aro to let Carlisle peruse the shelves free of supervision.

Aro, naturally had been reluctant. He was very protective of his collection, after all. And while he knew Carlisle to be a trustworthy individual, it was the principle of the matter. If Aro let one non-coven member be unsupervised, then future visitors might complain that he was being unfair.

So in the end, Aro decided to supervise Carlisle's visits himself as much as his duties allowed. And rather than finding the experience boring, he quickly found himself looking forward to their time together each day. Carlisle, as Aro had instantly known, was an intelligent, and insatiably curious fellow. And as the pair began striking up conversation between the mahogany bookshelves, Aro grew to like him more and more.

They discussed everything together—from philosophy, to science, to art, to medicine, and even religion. And Aro was thrilled with how innovative Carlisle was about his approach to all of them. It seemed his diet was not the only way in which he was willing to break from tradition and explore the limitless possibilities. Even his Christianity was not rigidly orthodox—at least, not for his time.

For an 18th century man, Carlisle was remarkably progressive when it came to religion. His father's very strict interpretations, and their unpleasant consequences—such as innocent humans being framed as vampires and killed—had left a bad taste in Carlisle's mouth. And he had resolved from an early age to look past dogma, and instead judge people by their character.

Of course, Carlisle still held fast to the belief there were certain consequences for defying the will of God. Certain commandments that no one should break. But it wasn't impossible, in Carlisle's mind, for people of different religious or even non-religious backgrounds to behave morally. Which was more generous than most of his contemporary theologians were willing to be.

Aro was impressed. But still, after all of the discussions the two men had, there was one thing Carlisle would absolutely not budge on.

"I still find it so hard to understand, even now," Aro commented one day while he sat opposite Carlisle at one of the little mahogany reading tables in his vast library. "Why do you work so hard—resort to using your own powers even—to resist your instincts?"

Carlisle, who had gotten rather accustomed to his diet being challenged, and the way in which Aro's powers operated merely shrugged and gave us a serious look. "You know why, Aro."

Aro hissed in frustration. "In theory, yes—you still cling to your human beliefs. But that cannot fully account for what I have seen."

Carlisle looked like he was about to protest. But before he could even get a word in edgewise, Aro held up a hand to say he wasn't finished. And Carlisle patiently waited for him to continue.

"And before you claim that you are exceptional," Aro began. "I must clarify that I have met many vampires who share your religion."

Carlisle leaned forward eagerly. "There are others?"

Aro snorted. He found Carlisle's ignorance hilarious.

"Not all of us are godless," Aro responded. "Did you really think every one of us abandons our mortal religion upon transformation? That you were somehow special for finding some value in the teachings you grew up with, even after many of them no longer apply?"

Carlisle looked a little castigated. He stared at his buckle-shoed feet.

"Humans always taught me that vampires were damned," he began to explain. "And so, I supposed it made sense to me that most immortals would not care much for religion. But you are right. To assume such a thing was universal… and that I was sole exception, was rather arrogant of me."

He sounded apologetic.

Then, he looked up, meeting Aro's eyes again. And his expression became a mix between wonder and trepidation.

"Are you Christian, then?"

Aro shook his head. "I am of too many minds to commit to any single religion." He smiled, like he was enjoying his own private joke. "But I respect your beliefs. And there are a few members of my guard who share them, to varying degrees of piety."

Carlisle suddenly looked surprised—he hadn't been expecting that. Then, when an epiphany struck him, he turned disturbed.

"But they do not follow the commandment not to kill humans."

"No, they do not," Aro agreed. "The Volturi has had members from almost every known belief system on earth. But I have never before met an immortal who refused to kill humans. It's…  _unnatural,"_  Aro stressed.

"How do they justify it?" Carlisle begged to know. "The others like me…"

One of Aro's guards, a dark-haired girl named Renata—who, despite Aro's insistence that he would be fine alone with Carlilse, had insisted on tagging along—tensed a little where she stood, near the library doors. And I knew from Aro's mind that she was one of the few Christian vampires he had been referring to.

We both guessed she probably felt a little called-out by Carlisle's words. Like she was being labeled a bad Christian for having a traditional vampire diet.

And while I was sorely tempted to agree with Carlisle on that front, Aro rushed to her defense.

"They have found a way to reconcile their beliefs with their current reality," Aro explained casually, before regarding Carlisle curiously. "You still have not figured one out?"

Having seen many vampires in their early days as immortals, Aro knew that killing humans was a moral hang-up a lot of vampires had starting out. But he thought it was peculiar that Carlisle was still tormented by guilt, even now.

At this point, Carlisle had been a vampire for nearly four decades. And in Aro's experience, most immortals, with few exceptions, only took a few months to reconcile their human beliefs with their undead reality. Or to simply abandon their mortal convictions altogether.

So for Carlisle to persist in that early stage of guilt even now was disheartening for Aro to see. And Aro wished desperately that he could help Carlisle sort through his feelings. That he could help Carlisle adjust his beliefs to match his new state.

"You have not discovered a suitable justification, yet?" Aro repeated, baffled.

At first, I was worried that Aro might be oversimplifying things. But Aro was no fool. He knew well that reevaluating one's deeply held convictions was an uncomfortable, and drawn-out process.

And he wasn't dead-set on one outcome. While many of Aro's guard had violently discarded their holy books and their gods, in the wake of their transformation, he saw no compelling reason that Carlisle had to make the same decision. He did not believe faith was fundamentally incompatible with vampirism. Even if it was not the path Aro chose himself.

I smiled. It was nice to know that Aro was another agnostic like me who was nonetheless courteous about other's religious convictions.

Carlisle made a distressed noise. "Justification? You think killing humans— _innocent_  humans—can ever be justified?"

He obviously didn't think so.

Aro frowned.  _All Carlisle needs to do is let go of his unnatural unease around consuming humans. And for that, he only needs to make a single logical step._

A single step? That was it?

I wasn't so sure.

"Of course it can be justified. It is rather simple, actually," Aro began, with a confidence that chilled me. "And I must confess that I am surprised that you haven't done it yet. Surely, you must know that you are no longer human…."

Carlisle shifted uneasily. "Yes. It's taken a while, but I've come to terms with that."

Aro raised a skeptical eyebrow. He didn't buy it. "Have you really?"

Carlisle blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"You are a new creature now," Aro explained slowly. "And is it not true that your holy scripture only purports to command humans?"

Carlisle scratched his head. "Well…"

"Does God forbid the snake from eating the mouse?" Aro suddenly challenged.

Carlisle was momentarily taken aback. "What? No…"

"Or the fox from eating the rabbit?" Aro asked.

"No, but I don't see how that rela—"

Aro cut Carlisle off. "Is it true that you do not consider it immoral to kill animals for food?"

"Yes, but—"

"Why?" Aro demanded.

Carlisle looked like this was the first time someone had asked him that. And he was at a total loss for words.

"They are living creatures, just as humans are," Aro felt it was necessary to point out.

Carlisle shook his head. "It's different," he asserted firmly.

"Why?" Aro challenged again. "Is it because animals are not as valuable? Not as smart? Not capable of the depth of emotions that humans are?"

Carlisle quickly turned flustered. "Perhaps… but I don't… I don't truly know. I simply believe it isn't forbidden. That God allows it," he explained weakly. "But he doesn't allow us to kill humans."

"Then let me ask you this," Aro said. "Is it forbidden for a lion to kill a human?"

Carlisle pursed his lips. And I could see the consternation clearly written on his face.

I swallowed. Aro was right. It really only was one logical step.

And now Carlisle had backed himself into a corner. I mean, I was pretty sure Carlisle didn't believe that lions who attacked humans for whatever reason would go to hell. Lions, after all, were creatures governed by different moral laws than humans.

But if Carlisle were to extend that logic to himself, he would have to admit that clinging to human morals as a non-human was pretty silly. He was a new creature now. And if deity had different rules for different animals…  _was it so crazy to think that deity might have different expectations of Carlisle as a vampire than as a human?_

"They don't know any better," Carlisle decided to say at last. "I do."

"Ah, so intelligence is important," Aro acknowledged.

Carlisle grimaced. "I suppose you could say that."

"But if a lion were just as intelligent as you or I, then would it killing a human become immoral?" Aro asked.

Carlisle shrugged. He obviously didn't think that hypothetical was very meaningful. "I suppose so, yes."

Aro raised an eyebrow. "And if would still be immoral even if humans were its only means of survival?"

Carlisle, who had once thought himself to be in the very same position, didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

Aro's other eyebrow joined its twin on his pallid forehead. Carlisle was being unexpectedly stubborn. So Aro decided to switch tactics.

_There is another justification. A bit more complex, but no less powerful,_ Aro thought.

"You believe that God is the creator of this planet and all of its inhabitants, correct?" Aro asked.

Carlisle nodded. "Yes."

"Do you believe then that spiders were designed to eat flies?" Aro queried. "And sharks designed to eat fish?"

Carlisle, realizing the path of Aro's rhetoric immediately, frowned. "That's really not a fair comparison…"

"Then do you deny that you were  _designed_  to desire human blood?" Aro asked a bit confrontationally.

I shivered. At least as far as I saw it, the evidence of  _that_  fact was overwhelming.

I wasn't sure what I believed in terms of religion and the afterlife—I sorta figured that was a bridge I'd cross when I got to it. But whether it was God, or evolution, or some combination of the two that had given Carlisle the instincts he now possessed, one thing was incontrovertible.

Those instincts wanted Carlisle to drink human blood.

And most importantly, they wanted him to kill for it.

"No, I do not deny that," Carlisle admitted. After all he'd been through he really couldn't honestly say anything else. "But not all physical desires even humans have are holy. I suppose I would consider my lust for human blood like any other lust—as something that must be contained."

Aro considered this, and after a few moments nodded. "Certainly," he agreed easily. "I know plenty of vampires who have let their lust for blood get out of control. And it is not pretty."

I blanched at the picture Aro's words were painting in my head.  _Yeah, I could imagine that._

Carlisle frowned. "That's not what I mean."

Aro beamed at him. "I know. However, just as you believe there is an acceptable outlet for the fulfilling of sexual lust—you call that marriage—I believe there must also be an acceptable outlet for the fulfilling of our bloodlust. Or else, why would we have that desire to begin with?"

Carlisle's frown grew even deeper. "The animal blood I drink does that just fine."

Aro scoffed. "You do not really believe that."

"Of course I do!" Carlisle retorted. "Why would I lie?"

"Because you're suffering, Carlisle," Aro said like it was the most obvious thing in the whole world. And from what he and I had both seen in Carlisle's mind, it was. "And you don't want to admit it."

Carlisle, looking a little indignant, rushed to defend his chosen way of life. "I am  _not_  suffering! In fact, nothing has given me greater joy than this choice of mine! If you would only try it, then you could know how great it can be! I would be willing to show you how it's done."

Aro's revulsion was immediate and acute. His face wrinkled into a look of extreme distaste. And he held up a forbidding hand. "That is a  _generous_ offer, but I am afraid I must pass."

The disgust in his voice was palpable.

Carlisle looked heartbroken.

"You won't try it at all? Not even once?"

Aro frowned. And when he spoke again, his voice had turned sardonic. "In a way, I already have," he thought it was meaningful to point out. "And I might say the same to you. Would you be willing to try human blood? Even just once?"

If Carlisle could have gotten any paler, he would have. Then, when the shock of being asked rather casually to murder someone wore off, he glumly shook his head.

Aro smiled smugly. "That's what I thought."

The men's conversation turned to other topics then. And several hours later, the two decided to leave the library and go into the turret room to further test Carlisle's powers.

Rather than use Caius or any of the other guard members, Aro had Carlisle practice on criminals before they were disposed of. And, although Carlisle had been squeamish at first about the idea, they had made great progress in the past two months—learning the limits of what Carlisle could and could not change. As well as what he could convincingly alter.

Some days were more fruitful than others. And today, Carlisle did something particularly impressive. Instead of replacing or altering only one memory, he wiped the entirety of a criminal's memories—leaving only a disorienting strain of emotions attached to nothing but a blank, white void.

Aro marveled as he watched the blank expanse of white fill the man's brain through his gift. He'd never before imagined that Carlisle's powers could be so strong. That Carlisle could overwrite so much information with nothing.

It was kind of scary, actually.

After the two men pulled away, the man condemned to die shrieked in uncomprehending terror. I guessed being suddenly robbed of all of your experiences, and left with nothing but featureless white was a pretty traumatic thing.

And while this outcome horrified Carlisle, it only made Aro more excited about the possibility of inducting Carlisle into the guard.

_Carlisle, as one of us. It is such a wonderful idea,_ Aro thought while the criminal continued to holler incoherently at everything. _His power could be of great to use. And I appreciate his company very much._

_Of course I will have to make him swear to never use his power against us. And take his word for it. Since there will be no way we can verify that our minds are untampered with._

Aro frowned. That wasn't a pleasant thought.

He flicked his wrist in the direction of the criminal, kneeling and clutching his head on the floor. Like he was suffering from the worst migraine in the world. Or the biggest identity crises known to man. Which was probably more accurate.

Aro's guards charged forward then, and tore the wailing criminal to shreds. But I didn't even see it. Aro was too busy looking rapturously at Carlisle—who in turn, was averting his gaze from the violence.

Though, all of us heard it. The awful  _snapping_ and  _crunching_  sounds were virtually impossible to tune out. They were loud, like someone was shredding metal. And I felt like my body back in the present was vibrating from head to toe in discomfort.

_Though, first, I will have to help Carlisle overcome his reservations against his natural diet first,_ Aro continued to think, still paying no mind to what his guards were doing.

We heard a small  _pop_. Then the crackling of flames. And suddenly a strong smell, heavy like incense, but sickly sweet like burned sugar, wafted in.

I shivered when it registered in my senses. I knew that smell. I had only smelt it once before, and faintly too—not with the acuity of a vampire's nose, like I was smelling it now. But it was unmistakable.

It was the smell of a vampire burning.

_Drinking animal blood makes Carlisle weak,_ Aro mused, callously unconcerned with what had just occurred.  _As things now stand, he is in no fit state to stand alongside us in conflict._

…

While the smell of charred vampire flesh was still burning in my nostrils, Aro skipped ahead again. I wasn't sure how far. But we were in the rectangular room where Carlisle had first met Aro now, watching two hulking bodyguards return with Marcus and his mate, Didyme.

And when I saw the couple for the first time in these ancient memories, I was blasted with shock.

Marcus, like his brother Caius, was  _very_  different in these old memories than he was in the present. But rather than being physically different—say, by missing a limb that must have mysteriously grown back—it was Marcus' emotions that were drastically changed.

Gone was the look of perpetual, lifeless boredom I had come to associate him with. He  _smiled_  as he walked into the room, like everything was right in the world. And even chuckled a little as his companion—a short, female-version-of-Aro—danced into the room after him.

"Marcus, I am so happy that you have returned!" Aro cried exuberantly as he lurched forward to greet the pair. "And my lovely sister, too."

Didyme flashed a dazzling smile. And at once I was sure unnerving grins ran in the family.

"We are glad to be back," Marcus said warmly. And the sound of his voice shook me. It was so weird to hear  _emotion_  from the man. And I was dying to know what had changed.

_What stole the life from Marcus' eyes in the intervening centuries between this memory and now?_ I wondered.  _What made him lose all interest in the world?_

I  _did_ recall Aro mentioning something in the present about Marcus' mate being dead. Then I frowned, sure I understood. Losing one's mate was a pretty big deal, apparently. I'd seen myself how badly Victoria had reacted to the loss of James. So Marcus' lifeless boredom was probably his reaction to the loss of Didyme.

I stole another glance at Aro's female doppleganger, and cringed. She looked so happy and innocent. Well, as innocent as a vampire who drank human blood could be. And it seemed so unfair that she had to die.

"How was your vacation?" Aro inquired, deadly curious, as he approached his two friends.

Marcus snorted, finding Aro's comments amusing. "We know you will just see for yourself, eventually," he told us in good humor. "So what is the use in explaining it all to you first, Aro?"

Didyme, with a radiant expression, leaned casually on her mate's shoulder. "It may not be necessary. But isn't it polite?"

Marcus looked over at his mate. And practically melted with happiness. Like he was under a spell.

I wasn't sure exactly what was going on. But whatever effect Didyme was having on Marcus appeared to be contagious. Something warm and sunny rose inside of Aro as he pulled to a halt, only a foot away from the pair. It was the most abundant joy I'd ever experienced. So abundant that I was worried I might burst. And Aro couldn't help but laugh as it suffused his being.

"Ah, Didyme," Aro sighed, reveling in the happy feeling like it was the smell of a long lost friend's perfume. "It is such a pleasure to have you back. How long do you intend to stay this time?"

I learned from Aro's mind then, that Didyme, like Alice, was an off-and-on member, rather than a full-time resident in the Volturi fortress. She hated being cooped up in the dark, uninteresting underground, and longed to explore the world with her mate, Marcus by her side. And though it pained Aro to let her and Marcus go—for they were both very valuable to him, both as friends, and to his organization—he wasn't going to force their hand.

After all, they were much more willing to offer their services if Aro let them come and go as they pleased, than if he did something dreadful to force them to stay.

"Marcus and I were thinking we might stay awhile," Didyme said as casually as she could manage. I guessed she didn't want to get Aro's hopes up.

But it was futile. Aro's heart, already overflowing with happiness, soared like a bottle-rocket.

" _Truly_?"

"Now, now, don't get too excited," Marcus cautioned. But he was still smiling. And I wasn't sure I would ever get used to it. "But your sister and I have some news."

But just before Marcus could get around to telling us what that news was, Carlisle poked his head in through the entrance. And all eyes were on him as he asked Aro a question.

"I do hate to interrupt, but I was hoping to visit the library again and I need an escort. Could you help me find one? Or come yourself, if you're not too busy?"

Aro, who didn't mind being interrupted in the slightest, nodded pleasantly at Carlisle. "I will be along in a moment," he promised

"And who is this?" Didyme asked, eyeing Carlisle curiously.

"Carlisle Cullen," he answered promptly.

"A visitor," Aro explained, seeing his sister's bewildered look. "And a friend."

Didyme looked Carlisle over a little more closely—probably trying to find what made Aro so interested in him—then inhaled in shock. "His eyes…"

"Ah yes, he… uh…" Aro didn't seem quite sure how to explain.

"I drink animal blood," Carlisle said succinctly.

Didyme eyed Carlisle with bright interest. "Animals, you say?"

Aro grimaced. He didn't want his precious younger sister getting the wrong idea. The idea of her having the same golden eyes and greenish skin as Carlisle made him feel sick.

"How interesting," Didyme mused, tapping her chin in thought the same way Aro did.

"Yes, well," Aro said, quickly changing the subject, before things could get out of hand, "Before I go with Carlisle to the library, what was it that you wished to tell me?" he asked the pair, while already drifting toward the round room's entrance.

"Marcus and I were planning to stay here at the castle for a while, because something wonderful has happened," Didyme informed him cheerfully.

"Something wonderful?" Aro probed, sounding hopeful.

Didyme blinded us with her smile again. "Yes."

"And what might that be?" Aro prodded. He and I both were through with the suspense.

Didyme clapped with joy. Then placed both hands over her stomach. "I am with child."

…

_Wait a minute, she is_   _what_? I thought in utter disbelief,  _I must have heard wrong. Vampires can't do that,_ I rationalized to myself.

But my confusion was so strong that my mental barrier faltered from its position outside my mind, and rushed back to spread itself over my brain, like a silky, red, cocoon. As it flowed over me, I felt refreshed, like I'd just taken a warm bath. And my present surroundings snapped back into view.

Lucretia, realizing her powers were no longer working, released me. And when her little hand dropped to her side, I looked up at Aro, blatant confusion etched into my features.

"Wait, there's no way Didyme can be…"

"Pregnant?" Aro supplied.

I nodded. "That's impossible. Right?"

My gaze flickered desperately over to Edward and Alice to back me up. But both of their faces were totally impassive. Which wasn't exactly encouraging.

I swallowed, turned back to face Aro, and tried to explain my thinking. "I was told that when humans are changed into vampires, they're frozen in the moment of their transformation—they can't change or grow past that. And obviously making room for a baby requires quite a bit of change. So it doesn't work. It can't."

Aro raised an eyebrow in surprise. He didn't seem to think my logic was faulty. But he obviously did not agree. He gracefully shook his head.

"While it is true that we are frozen in the same year of development that venom entered our system, that does not make us wholly incapable of change," he explained. "Our bodies may not age. And our hair may only grow to the length it was at when we were turned. But we can change in some small ways," he told me.

That piqued my interest.  _What small ways_?

"Our hair, if cut, can grow back," Aro went on. "And our bodies still sustain the same fertile processes we had as mortals—processes that, even in males, necessitate changes."

Oh. I had forgotten about that. But Aro was right. Even if it was less outwardly visible, stuff still had to change inside of men to produce sperm. And, a bit more obviously, to be able to put that sperm in the right environment to become a baby.

I tried not to think about  _that_ change too much.

It was wholly inappropriate in present company.

I shook myself, then asked, "Vampires can change?" It seemed like such a foreign concept. "At least, enough to be able to get pregnant?"

Aro nodded. "At least, those of us who drink human blood," he clarified.

I sucked in a breath. "So, what you're saying is… Rosalie could have kids if she wanted. But she would have to—"

I couldn't say it out loud. The picture that accompanied the words in my mind was too horrifying.

I saw a tiny red-eyed infant with fair hair cradled in Rosalie's arms. But as she leaned down to give him a motherly kiss on the forehead, her lips smeared his skin with blood. And when the image panned downward, I saw that she was standing on an enormous pile of limp, bloodless human bodies. Bodies she'd drained to have that baby.

I felt abruptly sick.

Aro, understanding what I meant, nodded. "Yes. In theory, she could."

I wheeled around to face Edward. "Does she know?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you look up starvation in humans, almost all of the symptoms referenced in the last several chapters are there—including the loss of fertility in women in extreme cases. When I was doing the research for this fanfiction and came across that, I figured I would roll with it. More on that will be explained, I promise. I'm going to try to make it make as much sense as possible, without disrupting canon too much.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN: NUTRITION

…

_Esme's made do with us as substitutes…_

_And Alice doesn't remember anything human so she can't miss it_

_You will remember though. It's a lot to give up._

\- Rosalie, Eclipse, Chapter 7

…

 _Was this been something Carlisle had removed from Rosalie's memory? The knowledge that she could have babies?_ I wondered.

It was an all-too-likely possibility. And I could sort of understand why Carlisle might do such a thing.

_With how badly Rosalie wanted kids…_

"Does she know?" I asked.

Edward made a sour face. Which wasn't encouraging.

But Alice nodded.

And suddenly Rosalie's pain made even more sense. It wasn't just that she felt robbed of the ability to have children. Her vampirism actually did not make parenthood impossible, it just attached a high price to it. A very high price. Too high.

My heart sank. That was even worse.

No one should have to choose between having babies or not committing murder.

Though, honestly I was impressed that Rosalie was willing chose the latter. I had expected her to be willing to kill to have babies. And I automatically felt bad for having judged her so harshly.

"Edward wouldn't let Rosalie tell you," Alice offered to explain why I'd been given the explanation I had. "But she does know."

"And Esme?" I asked, facing Aro again.

I wasn't really sure if the woman had ever really wanted that. Unlike Rosalie, she'd never told me directly that she did. But she seemed to love Carlisle a lot, and at least appreciate the  _idea_ of family, since that was what her coven seemed to mimic. So I was curious.

Aro swept both hands out in an accommodating gesture. "She could have children as well. Provided she drank properly."

There was a devious smirk punctuating the end of his sentence. And I recoiled with revulsion.

"Why?" I blurted out, sounding a bit angrier than I'd intended. "What's so…  _magical_  about human blood?"

"Procreation requires a fair amount of energy," Aro elucidated. "Therefore, we need plenty of nourishment for it to work."

"I don't understand…." I muttered, before looking behind me again.

I was still waiting anxiously for any sign, no matter how marginal, of disagreement or protest from Edward and Alice. But it didn't look like it was going to come.

"Humans who are malnourished also experience infertility when their deprivation becomes severe enough," Aro expounded academically. "Why then is it so strange that vampires who are malnourished suffer similarly?" he challenged.

"But… that means…" I sputtered pathetically. "…You're saying only healthy vampires can have children. And that drinking animal blood isn't healthy?" I asked, still unwilling to accept it.

" _Yes_ ," Aro purred excitedly. "You are beginning to finally understand."

I frowned and hesitantly looked back over at Aro's "daughters". They were still holding hands, and apparently having some sort of silent conversation in their minds. And suddenly, it struck me that, in light of the recent revelation, the young twin girls could actually be Aro's biological, vampire-born children.

I looked up at Aro and asked with extreme trepidation: "Lucretia… Titania… are they…?"

"Yes, dearest Isabella," Aro answered with a sly grin. "They are my actual offspring," he confirmed. "Conceived and brought into this world as vampires, by vampires."

"…You and _…_ " I trailed off, realizing I didn't know with whom Aro had done the deed, "…created these children?"

Aro chuckled softly at my ignorant omission. "My mate, Sulpicia and I, yes."

He gestured to a small woman in the crowd. And when I realized who he was pointing at, I felt a sudden stab of anger. She was almost as short as Alice—people, after all, were smaller back then. And she was heartbreakingly gorgeous with pale blonde hair that fell in soft curls, a classically beautiful face, and the body of Venus de Milo.

I tried to reign back my jealousy. It was irrational, after all, to expect someone as ancient and powerful as Aro not to have a stunning woman on his arm. But I felt the rotten feeling seeping into my heart just the same. What I wouldn't trade to be on his arm instead….

I forced myself to tear my eyes away from her. Then I blinked. Once. Twice. "How?"

Aro looked askance at me. "Certainly you are an adult and understand how these things work, yes?"

His voice dripped with provocative suggestion. And a vivid blush blossomed over my cheeks.

"Of course," I choked out, clearly mortified.

The last thing I needed right now was for Aro to try and explain the birds and the bees.

Aro chuckled. "Then I hardly need to say anymore. They are as much my daughters as you are Charlie's."

I stiffened at the mention of my very fragile, human father.

Noticing my horror-stricken expression, Aro's proud grin melted into a look of grandfatherly concern. "Don't worry, I intend him no harm, so long as he does not become too curious…."

"He knows nothing," I rushed to say, determined to protect him.

"Yes. Edward showed me as much," Aro offered reassuringly.

I nodded slowly. Then begged the universe that my father would be smart enough to keep his nose out of these things. Even if he never heard from me again—which was seeming more and more likely—I didn't want him to go looking for me. I hated to think of his life being cut horribly short because he was unwilling to let me go without answers.

"I still don't completely get it, though. I thought creating immortal children was a crime," I said, perplexed by the apparent inconsistency.

Aro's expression at once turned grave. "You are not mistaken. Transforming  _human_ children into vampires  _is_  a crime."

"Then—?"

"But my daughters are not immortal children," Aro clarified.

I looked at the two, ruby-eyed six year olds dubiously. "They're not?"

Lucretia and Titania stiffened and buried their heads into their father's robes. They apparently did not appreciate the conflation. In fact, my labeling of them as immortal children seemed to frighten them for some reason. But I failed to see the difference. They were immortal, right? And they were kids? So…

Aro paused to gently rub his daughters' heads. Which seemed to soothe them a little. Then looked up at me as he began to explain.

"Immortal children are physically frozen in the year of their transformation. Because of this, their brains are eternally immature, and they are a danger to us."

"Because they can't be controlled?" I guessed.

That's what I'd been lead to believe anyway. Though, I'd been led to believe a lot of things that were wrong, it seemed.

To my relief, this time Aro nodded. "No matter how often they are scolded, or told the importance of keeping our secret, immortal children are incapable of truly understanding. That rational part of their neural physiology can never be developed."

"So you can't let them live," I finished.

The twins clinging to Aro's robes visibly flinched, and clung on even tighter.

Aro frowned. "That is correct," he said flatly.

This was obviously not a topic he liked discussing around his children. And I couldn't exactly blame him. They looked terrified as it was.

While the girls fidgeted fearfully around Aro's ankles, Caius decided again to interject. "They cannot be controlled or taught. And therefore they are a liability," he declared with unquestionable finality. "Just like you," he added, stabbing a bony white finger at me.

Aro made an exasperated noise. "Brother, please…"

Caius gave his brother a look that clearly said  _what? I'm just saying…_

And Aro sighed. Then looked downcast for a moment. Evidently he did not enjoy the ghastly punishment he was forced to dole out upon immortal children.

"So if your daughters aren't immortal children, what exactly are they?" I asked.

Apparently "immortal children" was a very specific term. And I wanted to understand what made Lucretia and Titania different from those untamable, little monsters. They certainly didn't look any different than I imagined a human bitten at a young age would….

"Born-vampires, like my daughters do not remain children forever," Aro offered as the primary distinguishing factor. "Although the outward process is slow, eventually they will grow up into responsible adults. And comparatively, they are extremely teachable."

Aro beamed down at Lucretia and Titania with fatherly pride. He seemed impressed with how far they had already come. And hopeful for their future.

My eyebrows knit together. "Comparatively?"

Aro sighed again. "For a while I kept a pair of immortal children under observation, to see if they ever could be trained," he related. "But even after two centuries, they could never develop the cognitive ability to place something as abstract as the protection of the vampire world above their immediate wants."

I shuddered as I imagined what that might look like. I had a pretty good idea what Aro meant by  _immediate wants_. But the image of an adorable toddler the same size or smaller than Lucretia and Titania being so consumed with thirst that they savagely attacked all human beings who neared them was too horrifying.

Something thick passed through my throat. "And your daughters aren't like that?"

I hadn't meant it to come out sounding like an accusation. But there was a little too much sarcasm in my tone to avoid it. And that made Aro's daughters start trembling violently again.

Aro patted them calmingly. And softly whispered reassurances that they would be alright.

"Born-vampires may be somewhat wild at first, as all children are. But it is a manageable wildness, and it does not persist eternally."

Aro spoke with a certain nostalgia about those earlier, more rambunctious years of his daughters' immortal lives. And I shuddered. It was unnerving to think Aro might find his children's violent mishaps  _cute_  the same way human parents might think that about their child's failed first steps.

I shook away that thought then. And tried to focus on what I had learned.

 _So born-vampires would eventually grow up. But since immortal children could not, they had to be destroyed? I guess that made sense_.

But from all of Titania's and Lucretia's fearful reactions, I was led to assume that they had been mistaken for immortal children before. And why wouldn't they?  _How could anyone, even Aro, tell the difference?_

"…But how do you know… if you find a young vampire that you haven't watched grow… how do you know whether they're an immortal child or a born-vampire?" I asked.

I desperately hoped Aro would not say something horrific like "we guess." That he actually had some sort of surefire method for distinguishing slowly growing children from utterly frozen ones.

Aro looked a little shocked that I hadn't figured it out already. "Through my gift, of course."

I wanted to slap myself— _duh._ I kept forgetting how nifty his power was. With one touch Aro would be able to see the children's whole lives. And, by extension, whether or not they had grown as vampires during that time.

"How long does it take… for them to grow up?"

I was curious as to how old his daughters really were. And how long it would take them to become fully-fledged adults. They did not look more than six or seven years of age. But Aro had said their growth was slow.

"Ah… it varies," Aro told me, to let me know it wasn't an exact science. "But it usually takes about two centuries until they reach full maturity."

I balked. Two  _centuries?_ I hated to think that the terrible-twos had lasted for several  _decades_. And I both pitied and admired Aro for being so patient.

But the expression on his face, rather than being long-suffering, was wistful. And it struck me suddenly that Aro didn't think two centuries was too long. No, he thought it was too  _short_.

"How old are they now?" I asked, eyeing the little girls curiously.

Aro sighed. "Titania and Lucretia are barely fifty."

He spoke as though that time was almost nothing. And I suppose to him, it was.

A person's perception of time was, after all largely based on how old they were. I remembered feeling like an hour was an  _eternity_ as a small child. And now it was almost nothing. So of course two hundred years would feel pretty short to a person over three-thousand years old.

And then, an epiphany hit me. And I was stricken with terror.

"Since born-vampires grow, does that mean that they will eventually—" I looked worriedly at his trembling daughters and swallowed thickly, "—die?"

Aro swiftly shook his head.

And I released an empathetic sigh of relief.

"Our bodies do not break down with age, as human bodies do," he explained. "Once they attain it, my daughters will remain at the appearance of their prime for the rest of their existences."

Aro seemed to be silently thanking the gods that he would not be forced to watch his children pass away before him. And I couldn't help but agree. That would be awful.

"And you've seen this happen…?" I asked curiously.

"Many times," he finished for me.

I scanned the crowd of cloaked figures hovering behind Aro, searching for any other young vampires like Lucretia and Titania. But although a wide range of ages and ethnicities were present, none of the immortals seemed to fit the bill.

At least not that I could tell.

It was possible that I was simply missing them. My vision was  _terrible_ compared to Aro's.

I chewed on my lower lip, confused. "And where are these children now? Is Didyme's kid around here somewhere?"

There was a collective flinch among the Volturi guard. And at once I was certain I had said something very wrong.

Marcus was displaying emotion again—though now it was  _pain_. Caius looked positively murderous—like he wanted to strangle me for even bringing it up. And Aro suddenly looked very somber.

"Unfortunately there was an  _accident_ that happened about a hundred years after Carlisle left us," he explained sadly. "And neither my sister, nor her child survived."

My eyebrows shot up at this.  _An accident? That caused two vampires to **die**?_

I was having a hard time believing it.  _How exactly did two vampires get "accidentally" torn apart and set on fire?_ It just didn't seem possible. Maybe  _one_  of those things could happen accidentally. But both in quick succession? Not likely.

I wanted to ask how it had happened. But the heavy lamentation in Aro's voice made me unwilling to pester him for details. So I tried switching topics.

"Are there other vampires like you?" I asked. "Parents, I mean?"

Aro pointed to a tall, pale woman of Greek descent standing amid the crowd. She had strawberry blonde hair which fell in thick waves all the way down her back. Her soft, oval face was covered with smooth ivory skin. And she too, like Sulpicia was stunning. But most notably she was small, thin, and angular—the visual antithesis of motherhood.

"Athenodora and Caius have also become parents," Aro declared.

It took me a moment to process that.

_Caius? A dad?_

The woman, her bony frame aside, I could understand. The look in Athenodora's dark red eyes was startlingly familiar. I had seen that same look in my own mother's eyes when someone said good things about me. It was the look of motherly pride.

_But Caius? He's so… sadistic._

"How many?"

I hated that I was asking so many "impertinent" questions. But I couldn't help myself. Born-vampires were  _fascinating._

Caius snarled in warning. It was clear he did not want to share that information.

But Aro ignored him completely. "They have one son, named Theodore. Although he is no longer with us," he finished sorrowfully.

I blanched.  _Another dead kid?_

Then Aro, realizing my mistake, rushed to correct me. "Do not fret Isabella, he is not dead. Like my eldest, he has simply left Volterra. As it so happens, not all who are born into this coven find it to their liking," he informed me with a note of bitterness. "And we do not force anyone to stay," he finished with a bit more kindness.

I nodded. That made sense. After all, Edward had said before that the Volturi weren't supposed to be the bad guys. Their cruel diet and rather  _harsh_  methods aside, they weren't really doing anything  _evil._ Their job of policing the supernatural world was both necessary and noble.

Then, like I was being thwacked on the head with a brick, I realized that I had missed something in Aro's statement. "Wait… your  _eldest?_ " I repeated.

Aro nodded. "Titania and Lucretia are not my only children," he explained. "My wife and I had another daughter two centuries before Didyme had her son Tristan. She would have already been mature when Carlisle came to visit."

My head reeled with this information. " _Another_ daughter."

"Yes. Her name is Valentina," Aro said with a nostalgic smile. "And she left us roughly a century ago."

He sighed pensively then, as though he was somewhat pained by her departure from the coven. But his features also flickered with understanding. I guessed he must have understood that, although he had no desire to see her go, Valentina had developed into a fully-fledged adult and needed to follow her own path.

"Any others?" I asked.

And this time, I was glad to see Aro shake his head. "Not in our coven at least. Though, as I am sure you have already realized, there are plenty of other covens with vampire-born children."

I swallowed. Despite Aro's insistence, that honestly hadn't occurred to me yet.

 _Well I guess I realize that_ _**now.** _

"The Egyptians have propagated the most, I think," Aro remarked idly, almost to himself. "They even have  _third generation_ vampires among their ranks," he said with obvious wonderment.

 _Third generation?_ As in… vampire-born-vampires had gotten pregnant and had their own vampire-born-vampire children?

Aro, seeing the glassy look in my eyes chuckled lightly. "Yes, I know it is rather hard to imagine," he said sympathetically. "Especially given how  _rarely_ we conceive. Why it took Sulpicia and I  _millennia_ of trying to have our first daughter. And we got extremely lucky the second time around— _twins._ "

"So conception is rare?" That seemed to be what Aro was saying.

Aro nodded in agreement. "And notoriously hard to predict."

That one threw me for a loop. "Why?"

"Ovulation is not a monthly occurrence for us, like it is for you," Aro explained medically. "Our bodies  _can_  change. But they do so at a slower rate. And often an unpredictable one."

"But why is it so… irregular?"

Slower I could understand. But hard to predict?

Aro smiled, and happily obliged me. "I believe we were designed that way on purpose," he told me. "The irregularity makes it virtually impossible for all but the most committed couples to conceive. And upon reflection, I do believe that is wise. After all, we are perfectly capable of propagating our kind through other means."

I stiffened, realizing what Aro meant.  _Venom. Vampire bites. Right._

"And of course, with how long we live, if we were much more fecund, the world would quickly be overrun…." Aro felt the need to point out.

I managed a shaky nod. He was right. Without some kind of natural limiter, the vampire population would grow too quickly. After all, unlike humans, vampires wouldn't die of natural causes. So if they had too high of a birth rate, they would start running out of humans to eat….

I choked back the bile rising slowly in my throat.

Then something else disturbing occurred to me. "But why would anyone make an immortal child at all, if they could just have born vampire children of their own?"

It didn't quite make sense. After all, what point was there in doing something that would antagonize the Volturi—people you didn't antagonize unless you wanted to die—when there was a legal alternative? When there was a way to obtain tiny, adorable vampires without invoking the powerful coven's wrath?

"There are many reasons," Aro educated me patiently. "Some couples grow impatient with our bodies' unpredictable fertility, and in their hunger for offspring, create a cruel mimicry. Others already  _have_  a child, and want another for them to play with. And others still are not mated at all, and yet, want to be parents—usually to replace the children they had in their human lives."

I nodded slowly. I could sort of understand those reasons. But only sort of, because nothing seemed worth angering vampire royalty. That was too high a price to pay for anything.

"None of these reasons justify their actions, of course," Aro rushed to remind me. "Immortal children are beyond control—a threat we cannot afford. Which is why they, and all who protect them must be  _eliminated_."

Titania and Lucretia stiffened again, their tiny hands still clutching Aro's robes. And even I winced. The picture Aro's words created in my head wasn't pretty.

"So what does this have to do with me?" I demanded suddenly. "Why are you showing me this?"

It felt like we were getting off on a bit of a tangent. And as much as I wanted to stall making a decision about becoming immortal, I didn't want us to be here forever talking in pointless circles.

"So that you understand why I want you to choose  _our_ way," Aro explained patiently. "So that you understand that if you  _do_ there are some things that you will not have to give up. Things that  _Edward_  wanted you to believe were outside of your reach."

 _Okay. But…_ I swiveled to face Edward then. "Why  _did_  you lie to me about this?"

Everyone in the room looked at him expectantly. I guessed they were probably wondering the same thing. And not without good reason. If Edward didn't want me to become a vampire, his deception hardly made any sense.

It wasn't like knowing the truth on  _this_  front was going to change my mind. I wasn't  _half_ as baby-hungry as Rosalie. And I had been perfectly willing to give up kids for Edward.

But Edward, who was still imprisoned in Felix and Demetri's grip acted for all the world like he hadn't heard me. He stared blankly at the wall. And held his lips firmly shut.

After a few seconds of strangled silence, Caius snapped. He rose swiftly out of his throne and darted with vampiric speed towards Edward. His icy white hands reached viciously for the younger vampire's throat. And his expression was simply murderous.

He moved so fast, I barely registered it. I saw blur of white hair. And heard the noisy rustling of robes and cloaks. Then suddenly Felix and Demetri had moved aside. All ten of Caius' spindly fingers were fastened tightly around Edward's neck. And Caius had hoisted Edward several inches off the ground.

Caius stared unforgivingly into the eyes that were now so close to his. And his lips drew fiercely over his teeth in a malefic sneer.

"I think it is in your best interest to answer the insignificant little human girl," Caius hissed. "It matters little to me. But Aro seems to be unwilling to allow our dinner to enter while she is still here."

I gasped as I realized that Aro was suddenly standing near the entrance of the room, instead of where he'd been standing merely moments ago. I wondered if he had moved at the same time as Caius. Or if I had simply missed the sight and sound of his movements entirely.

As my gaze focused on Aro again, I tried to understand what was going on. There was an unfamiliar vampire he was conversing with—a woman. She was gorgeous and statuesque, with lovely mahogany hair and a shapely figure. She reminded me instantly of Rosalie. Though there was no real resemblance. Her nose was longer. And her skin a lovely, pale bronze. It was just that her beauty, too, was exceptional, unforgettable.

I caught myself staring for a lot longer than was polite. And it took an unnatural amount effort to tear my eyes away.

When I finally managed, I noticed she stood in front of a large crowd of humans. They looked like a tour group. There were around forty of people, hailing from all over the world. A lot of them had cameras, and were candidly snapping photos. I heard lighthearted chatter in at least ten different languages. And though many didn't understand each other, all were glancing at their surroundings with curious appreciation.

My heart sank as I realized that they were what Caius meant when he said "dinner." Before my arrival in Italy, I had been made well aware that the Volturi were human-drinkers. And if I had not believed it then, I now had witnessed their telltale red eyes in the flesh.

But I had never envisioned their feeding habits leading to a scenario like this. A scenario featuring carefree tourists being led unawares to their gruesome deaths, like lambs being led to the slaughter.

I had always imagined they dragged in the humans they consumed, kicking and screaming. It seemed worse somehow for them to be in the dark. For them to be smiling innocently now, when I knew those same happy faces would soon contort with terror.

It made me physically sick.

The Rosalie-like woman Aro was speaking to gave a quick understanding nod in response to something he had said. Then she turned to the crowd, and led them down the hall with a bright, tantalizing smile.

They must be taking a slight detour, I supposed, before they wound up back here.

Once every last oblivious tourist was safely out of sight, Aro slowly slid shut the wooden panel that concealed this room from sight, and flitted back to his original position. The movement occurred at such a speed that it appeared he had teleported. One moment he was standing casually beside the entryway. And the next he stood alert between myself and where Caius and Edward struggled.

In fact, the only indication that he had used his long legs to cover the distance instead of been beamed in,  _Star-Trek_ -style, was his cape. It billowed dramatically behind him for a second before settling smoothly against his back.

Despite Aro's return, Caius persisted in his harassment of Edward. He still had Edward hoisted in the air by his neck. And luckily, Edward didn't need to breathe—or else he would have been very dead already.

"Certainly, you understand that it is…  _unwise_  to keep a vampire waiting…" Caius trailed off, licking his lips.

"Brother, please," Aro implored, trying to get Caius to release the younger vampire. "And you too, Edward. Your unwillingness to cooperate is not helping."

Edward scowled at Aro. But said nothing.

And Caius didn't move.

Aro sighed and tried something else. And while he said everything he could think to get the two men to calm down, I felt slightly guilty for the commotion. After all it was  _my_  presence which prevented Caius, and all the other vampires in this room from feeding.

But I cringed as I remembered that "dinner" wasn't fish and chips. Instead it was  _human beings._ Human beings that were going to be brutally murdered in this very building. Probably while I was still in it.

I felt dirty just being here.

 _How many had been led into this very room under false pretenses?_ I wondered. _How many screams had echoed off these walls, desperate for an escape they would never obtain? How many drops of blood had splashed across these floors? How many had died right where I was standing?_

I wasn't the best at mental math. But I knew that even if the Volturi only fed biannually (which was unlikely) the number of humans slaughtered here over the several millennia of their existence would be in the hundreds of thousands. And if they ate as frequently as Edward did—roughly once every two weeks—the body count would be in the millions.

My face must have looked as sickeningly green as I felt. Because Aro's next words were sorrowful and sympathetic.

"I understand that you feel a kinship with those Caius seeks, as a fellow human," Aro, told me, clasping his hands together near his heart.

I could tell he didn't feel any remorse for the deaths that would to occur later. But there was a deep understanding look in his eyes all the same. As though he fully comprehended the magnitude of suffering he was causing. And accepted it for what it was.

"I cannot apologize for what will happen. It is simply a part of our nature," he said without even a hint of contrition. "The only consolation I can offer is that I will never allow you to become like them—that is, as long as I still exist, and you are still intent on becoming immortal, I will not allow you to become food."

Aro extended his hand in what I supposed was meant to be a reassuring gesture.

But instead, I was disgusted. The fact that Aro didn't want me eaten, while comforting, was ultimately beside the point. It was the principle of that matter that upset me.

Obviously the Volturi believed some human beings were worth more than others. And that they had the right to judge who was worthy of living and who was not. But they didn't. No one had that right.

"Their fate is already decided." Aro gave a slight shrug, as though the tourists' demise was already out of his hands. "They will serve to sustain us."

The finality in Aro's voice shocked me. He made it sound like there was nothing which stood on earth or in heaven which could prevent the tourists from becoming the evening meal. He said it like it was already history.

I chewed on my lip, distressed by the knowledge that there really wasn't anything I could do about it either. I didn't have the strength to subdue thirty-odd vampires. And if I were to try to free the tourists, I would simply become the replacement food. No matter what Aro might try to do to protect me.

I didn't like it. Not in the slightest. But I would have to live with it.

"You feel absolutely nothing, when you take their lives?" I had to ask. Not because I was challenging them to. But because I couldn't fathom it. "When you kill people for their blood?"

"On the contrary," Aro rebutted softly. "I have nothing but the utmost appreciation for their sacrifice."

He startled me by sounding like he really meant it. Like he really felt some twisted kind of gratitude towards the humans he routinely devoured. And the terror on my face only grew worse.

"But do not despair, dearest Isabella," Aro placated, upon seeing my horror-stricken expression. "You will rise above them and join us."

Aro raised a single hand upwards to signify my impending ascent into immortality. His eyes followed the pale almond fingers as they rose and passed into a shaft of sunlight. And there, his prismatic skin glittered in a dazzling display.

After a moment of examining his own hand, Aro's eyes suddenly snapped back on me. He appeared to be awaiting my response. Though his hand was still held dramatically aloft.

"I'll never be like that," I insisted, balling my hands into impotent fists. "I won't… I won't kill humans."

Aro dropped his hand and smiled at my bold declaration.

And I felt a mounting urge to punch him in the face. I hated that he seemed so convinced that I would abandon everything I believed in and become a heartless murderer overnight. Personally, I doubted that there was anything I could experience which could lead me to justify the termination of innocent human life. But Aro's confidence was unnerving to say the least.

"Did I not tell you that was the purpose of all this?" Aro reminded me, still wearing that infuriating smile. "To convince you to choose  _my_ way once you are immortal. And, of course to make sure you know all of the costs of choosing Carlisle's folly," he added.

My face soured. "The costs," I repeated coldly. "Like, the pain he's drowning out? And the lack of fertility?"

Aro nodded. "Those and others…"

My face scrunched up with confusion. "Others? What others?"

After some consideration, I wouldn't mind having Carlisle help me alleviate some thirst and pain. And I wasn't too keen on having children—not keen enough to murder for them, anyway. So despite Aro's urging, I was still intent on drinking animal blood after I was transformed.

Edward was right. The side effects really were pretty minor. And totally worth it to preserve human life.

But I didn't like where Aro's insinuations were leading. If there were other sacrifices I would have to make to dine humanely—more dire ones—could I remain firm in that conviction?

I knew that I had a moral breaking point somewhere. A point at which I would justify killing. Everyone did. Even Carlisle—though his was set somewhere beyond his own death, which made it kind of moot.

But if Carlisle's memories had taught me one thing, it was that my own moral breaking point was much closer than that. And I was worried that what Aro showed me next might cross that line.

I swallowed. And Aro nodded again.

"Yes. There are many unpleasant symptoms of drinking animal blood besides what you have seen thus far," he explained gently. "Why don't you let me show you?"

Aro took one of Titania's hands in one of his again, and extended the other in my direction in invitation.

I felt something thick pass through my throat when I saw the look of cruel satisfaction in Aro's dark red eyes. But, despite myself, I felt my head nodding, and my mind already beginning to work on displacing my mental barrier.

We might as well get this over with.

…

When I returned to Aro's memories, I was surprised to find them playing quickly in a sort of montage, rather than in slow, chronological order. I guessed, he was trying to give me an overview of events over time, rather than making me slog through all of them at a regular pace. And once again, I felt a rush of gratitude for his consideration.

During the montage I saw that Aro maintained his routine with Carlisle—studying with him in the library in the mornings, and testing the younger vampire's powers in the afternoon, only ceasing when duty called, or either of them had to hunt. But though Aro was hoping to make some progress in convincing Carlisle to abandon his foolish diet with gentle rhetoric, all-too-quickly the months bled into years, and the years bled into two decades.

Aro didn't regret any of it. He and Carlisle, aside from the occasional, and inevitable spats they had around mealtimes, got along smashingly. They continued their riveting discussions. And they began to conduct experiments together in a few rooms in the Volturi catacombs—rooms Aro got renovated into proper laboratories so they could explore scientific theories.

Several times, Aro brought in a mortal artist, Francesco Solimena, who did not know of the Volturi's true nature, but was too enraptured by their beauty to really care. On more than one occasion, he called the men angels, and Aro did not object. Better to believe that, I guessed, than the truth.

He painted the portrait of the three brothers and Carlisle that was hanging in Carlisle's study sometime during those two decades, as well as many, many others of various members of the Volturi. I guessed those were all tucked away in Aro's burgeoning art collection now.

But, although Aro wouldn't have traded those decades for anything, after twenty years, he decided this pattern he and Carlisle had established, as fun as it was, could not go on forever.

Sixty years on animal blood was beginning to take its toll on Carlisle. His skin was greener than ever. The dark circles beneath his eyes were almost perpetually a disturbing, deep grape color, even right after a meal. And his eyes lost their golden color more quickly than before, forcing him to hunt more frequently, even though he already waited far past the point where Aro his guard usually fed.

Black eyes, I was surprised to learn through Aro, were not just a sign thirst, but of  _starvation_. And pretty far gone starvation at that. The Volturi only waited until their eyes turned half that dark—the color their eyes were in the present, actually—before they fed. And it disturbed Aro to watch Carlisle force himself to wait so long.

But perhaps that was his secret. The idea that anyone could routinely stomach something as disgusting as animal blood was unfathomable to Aro.  _Surely, Carlisle's gag-reflex would kick in, and force him to throw up? Surely even his powers could not prevent that?_

But maybe the old adage that "one will eat anything when they're starving" applied here. Maybe Carlisle could only drink animal blood when his body felt there was no other choice.

Aro and I both were not sure if we liked that idea. If that was so, that meant that Carlisle was living perpetually on the brink of death—his need for nourishment so strong that his body would accept literally anything to sustain himself, no matter how horrid.

But we had to admit, it was a compelling theory.

And it only made Aro more determined to use whatever means necessary to convince Carlisle of the error of his ways. After all, friends did not let friends starve themselves.

…

The memories skipped ahead a few weeks, and Aro and Carlisle were in the library again. The two men sat together reading at one of the mahogany tables. And Renata and the other dark-haired female bodyguard of Aro's were nowhere in sight. So I guessed they had finally come to trust Carlisle to be alone with Aro.

The scene was still for a moment. The tranquil silence only interrupted by the occasional sound of a hand turning a page.

Then, at some unseen signal, Aro rose quickly to his feet, and grazed Carlisle's cheek affectionately with his with knuckles.

"I must go now. Heidi has returned."

I wasn't sure who Heidi was. I wondered if she was the same Heidi I'd heard mentioned by Edward before. And what it was that she did for the Volturi.

Though, I didn't have to wonder for long. Soon enough, Aro pictured the same statuesque, mahogany-haired woman I'd seen only moments ago in the present. And, as the next mental image filtered into my vision, I soon figured out why Aro had recruited her.

Aro imagined this Heidi leading an entourage of humans—humans all trailing after her looking almost hypnotized—into the turret room. And then his fantasies dripped with red.

 _So she's the one who brings their food in from the outside,_ I concluded.  _She must have some kind of power to lure them in._

Then I swallowed.  _No wonder Edward stiffened at her name._

Aro, oblivious to my horror, had a much more positive outlook on Heidi in general. Though, he was a little extra happy with her today since her arrival meant mealtime. And he was starting to get rather thirsty….

I shuddered.

"I do hate to leave," Aro told Carlisle, dropping his hand.

And it was partially true. Aro did not like to leave Carlisle alone in his library. But he was  _very_  eager to feed. Too eager. Eager enough to make my stomach churn with nausea.

"However—"

Carlisle didn't look up from the book spread open in front of him. But he cut in, unwilling to hear the rest of Aro's sentence. "I know. You must feed."

There was a hard edge to his voice that was hard to place.  _Was he angry? Appalled?_ _ **Jealous?**_

I couldn't be sure. And Aro wasn't touching him anymore.

Aro frowned. "You are always welcome to join us, you know," he offered politely, as he had, countless times before.

But instead of merely giving a polite "No thank you," in return, as he usually did, today Carlisle stiffened in his seat. And his hands, propped on either side of the pages in front of him, clenched suddenly into hard, white fists. But still he did not look up.

Aro, curious, reached out to brush Carlisle's cheek again, to see what the matter was. And almost immediately, he recoiled in horror.

Whatever powers Carlisle had been employing before to drown out his thirst were no longer working. White-hot pain like nothing Aro had ever experienced himself ravaged Carlisle's throat. And his instincts—instincts Aro rarely got to see—had completely run away with his imagination.

Vivid depictions of Carlisle wildly slaughtering and consuming the entire party of mortals Heidi was bringing today arrested his mind. He wanted  _badly_  to drain them all. More than he'd wanted anything—except perhaps salvation. And it was taking everything he had to keep himself firmly planted in his seat.

Aro was surprised. "You  _want_ to join us," he breathed with a little too much excitement.

Carlisle vehemently shook his head. But his whole body trembled with the effort. And the thoughts in his head were quickly turning incoherent.

_Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood._

"It is useless to deny it, Carlisle," Aro said in a chiding tone. "Please, come with me," he offered again, stretching out a hand in the younger vampire's direction. "It hurts me to see you suffer like this."

Carlisle kept shaking his head. "No. No. Please," he begged, the veins over his knuckles pulling even tighter, and his jaw clenching. "Just… just go!"

Aro opened his mouth to protest. "But Carlisle—!"

"I SAID GO!" Carlisle shouted, finally looking Aro in the eyes—a clash of gold and dark red.

Aro jolted at the sound. He couldn't recall Carlisle ever yelling at him before. But he decided it meant that his arguments weren't going to get anywhere. And so, with one last longing look in the blonde's direction, Aro swiftly departed the library to join the feast.

…

I was immensely glad that Aro decided to edit his  _feeding_ out of the memory. That I'd only seen him raise his arms, and say "Welcome to Volterra!" to a party of confused humans, before the scene went abruptly black.

I wasn't sure I'd be able to stomach watching  _that_.

It was hard enough feeling Aro's obvious satisfaction when the memories faded back in. There wasn't a hint of remorse in his entire body. Only a full stomach, and faint hum of pleasure vibrating through his skin.

After exiting the turret room, Aro stopped by his rooms to get cleaned up. He used a sink and washcloth to wipe away the little speckles of blood that had dotted his face. He gave his immaculate hair a quick brush, to make sure nothing had gotten stuck in it. And he checked his clothes in the mirror to make sure they bore no obvious evidence of violence.

Carlisle, I learned from Aro's thoughts, didn't like being faced with the grisly evidence of Aro's deeds. And Aro was, if nothing else, considerate. He couldn't exactly hide some of the more obvious evidences of what he had done. Like his vibrant ruby eyes. Or his cheeks, flushed with fresh blood. But he was willing to make a bit of an extra effort to clean up the more damning bits of evidence that the rest of his guard wouldn't mind.

Like spots of blood on his clothing. Or bits of human flesh stuck between his teeth.

_If it made Carlisle happy…_

Aro frowned at that thought.  _Maybe making Carlisle happy_ —as Aro had been trying his hardest to do these last two decades— _is the wrong approach,_  he considered.  _Maybe Carlisle needs a cold, hard dose of truth. He is, after all, going to get himself hurt if he continues like this._

Once Aro deemed his appearance acceptable, he went immediately back to the library to check back in with Carlisle.

But as soon as Aro burst in through the large double doors, Carlisle's dark eyes flickered with disapproval. He was staring at the military jacket Aro was wearing—a break from his usual robes. And especially at the infinitesimal, reddish glint on one of the golden buttons.

 _Oops._   _It appears I missed a spot._

Carlisle forced himself to look away. And as he did so, Aro noticed something horrifying.

Carlisle did not look well. Though it had only been an hour at most since the men had last seen each other, his health had visibly deteriorated in that time. The thick, dark circles underneath his eyes were even more pronounced than usual. His skin was eerily green. And his irises were blacker than the deepest obsidian, despite having been golden before.

Clearly, Carlisle was fading. And this startled and baffled Aro.

 _How can Carlisle resist his instincts so completely? His powers are weakening… his body is gaining less and less nutrients from the blood he is drinking… He should be_ _**savage** _ _at this point…_

_And yet, he is not._

Aro swallowed.  _Is Carlisle's resolve not to kill really so strong. Strong enough even to lead Carlisle to unwittingly starve himself to death?_

_Perhaps he was already nearing the brink?_

That was a terrifying thought.

Aro wanted to sigh in exasperation—Carlisle was running himself ragged over a lost cause.

But ultimately, he refrained.

Carlisle, reading the tension in the air, ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Aro what brings you back here so soon? Has something happened?" He inquired with deep concern.

He squinted at us, as though there was something caught in his eye which he couldn't melt out with his venom. And he also pinched the bridge of his nose, suggesting that he was suffering from a headache.

No, that couldn't be right. Vampires didn't get headaches.

"Is everything alright? Did something happen during your… er…  _meal?_ Did one of the humans escape? Did—"

He rambled on, looking visibly flustered. But Aro paid little attention to his words all of a sudden. And watched in horror as Carlisle raised both hands to steady his head, like he was experiencing vertigo.

_Could his thirst really be that severe?_

Aro was about to explain. But then Carlisle suddenly ducked his head, propping it against the table for a few moments, like he was drowsy or something equally unlikely. And Aro's worry for Carlisle's well-being grew to the extreme.

 _I have never seen him so weak,_ He thought.  _Could he already be slipping away?_

"…Carlisle… when was the last time you fed?" Aro asked suddenly.

Carlisle wearily lifted his eyelids. It didn't look like he could even open his eyes entirely anymore. Then he sighed absently.

"Yesterday."

" _Yesterday_?!" Aro repeated, aghast.

And I couldn't help but agree.  _Yesterday? And his eyes were already turning black?_

"Yes..." Carlisle sighed softly, before a horrified look crossed his face. "But… dear heavens, why does my throat hurt so badly?" he sputtered in astonishment.

This was worse than Aro had thought.

 _Carlisle needs to feed,_ _**now.** _

But before Aro could suggest anything of the sort, suddenly Carlisle eyelids flickered shut once more. And we watched in horror as he collapsed, limp, over the mahogany desk.

Aro panicked. And I had to agree. This was not good.

Aro leapt up from his seat. And hesitantly placed the back of his hand against Carlisle's cheek.

We saw dizzy black spots swarming Carlisle's vision. And felt his whirling confusion and fear. Surrounding him on all sides was a white-hot, maddening thirst which wholly overwhelmed his hazy thoughts. But worst of all, we felt the familiar veil of death creeping over him—something that Aro had experienced far too many times in both humans and vampires to mistake for anything else.

Dread washed over Aro and I both. Carlisle was  _dying._

And if Aro didn't do something fast, it would be too late.

_No, no, no. This cannot be happening._

Aro clutched the sides of his head in frustration. His mind flickered through a hundred different possible solutions to this predicament. And at once, he determined that, although Carlisle would not be happy about it, there was no other choice. If he wanted Carlisle to live, he would have to feed him human blood.

_Now._

Aro, who wasn't about to watch his beloved friend die, whipped around to face the two cloaked figures standing near the library exit. And cried urgently, "Guards! Quickly! Fetch me our emergency humans!"

The hooded figures looked at Aro, and then at the form of Carlisle draped over the table with quizzical expressions. " _All_ of them?"

" _Yes!_   _All_ of them!" Aro barked at them. He flicked his wrist irritably to get them to scatter. "Hurry!"

The guards didn't need any more prompting. They vanished through the doors and down the hall then. And Aro watched them leave, clutching his hand over his unbeating heart in anxiety.

…

Felix and Demetri returned only a minute later. When they came in, both men held several humans by the wrist, and were dragging their screaming and thrashing bodies into the room like sacks of potatoes.

It made me sick to watch—the vampires treating humans like props, or worse. But I couldn't help but wonder where these "emergency humans" had been stored.

_Did Aro always keep a few in the catacombs as prisoners just in case? Or were the few humans he employed the "emergency supply?"_

I wasn't sure which idea was worse.

"Aro may I ask what is—?" Felix began.

Aro shut him up with a glare. Then he gestured sharply to the humans writhing and shrieking in his men's grips.

"Kill them. All of them," he commanded coldly.

…

Aro edited again—the visuals at least. And once the awful noises were finally silent, Demetri gently lied the two bodies he had produced at Aro's feet and quickly walked out of the room. Felix soon followed his lead, but left the throne room with a little more hesitance. He seemed unwilling to abandon Aro with a starving vampire. Until Aro fiercely shooed him away.

Carlisle was in absolutely no condition to feed himself. So Aro made a split-second decision.

He hauled Carlisle down from the table, pulling him into his lap. Then he bit into the neck of the nearest dead human—a young woman, in her late twenties—and sucked as much blood into his mouth as his cheeks would hold.

Without swallowing the slightest drop, Aro lifted slowly from her neck, turned quickly and dipped his head to where Carlisle's lay. He parted Carlisle's lips with his fingers. And pressed their mouths firmly together, to allow the blood to flow past Aro's tongue and down into Carlisle's dry, burning throat.

Carlisle swallowed the substance slowly. But otherwise, he made no indication that he was still alive.

He needed more blood.

So Aro repeated the process, drinking from the humans before him, and transferring the blood into Carlisle's mouth. And as he continued to feed Carlisle in this peculiar manner, Aro and I both grew more and more distressed.

Carlisle's mind remained utterly blank. And he made no movement except to swallow what Aro offered him.

Aro was about to give up, after he had fed Carlisle the entirety of the second human. But then Carlisle shifted slightly in Aro's arms. And his thoughts, though hazy, resumed in his mind at the same moment.

Delighted, and relieved, Aro set about feeding Carlisle the third human. He was very careful to not let any blood slip past his lips onto his chin or drip wastefully on the floor. For Carlisle needed every last drop.

After a while, Carlisle started to stir more regularly, in response to the nutrition entering his system. And through Aro's gift, we could tell that his mind was beginning to process the sensations his body was experiencing.

We felt the hot blood pouring down his throat. The warm brush of Aro's lips over his. And the dull tug against his neck as one of Aro's hand grasped the collar of his jacket in desperation for him to live.

And as we registered these sensations, immediately Aro worried that Carlisle might start to resent him for what he was doing. But Carlisle was presently unperturbed. Even though we could tell that he knew Aro was feeding him human blood.

Instead, he accepted Aro's frantic offerings with resigned pleasure. He even savored the delightful taste, and wonderful feeling of human blood splashing across his tongue. Like it was something he'd been looking forward to for a very long time.

 _How… strange,_ I thought, disturbed by the change.  _Carlisle is… enjoying this?_

It felt wrong. Even if it, biologically, made perfect sense.

When Aro began to feed him the fourth human, however, Carlisle's eyes finally flickered back open. And he began to be upset with the current arrangement.

 _Now that's more like it,_ I thought, feeling relieved. It wasn't like Carlisle to  _enjoy_ human blood.

Aro paused.

Carlisle's gaze lazily swept across the room. And he quickly surmised what was going on.

 _Aro killed people to bring me this blood,_  Carlisle realized all of a sudden.  _He slaughtered his own servants… And probably without a second thought._

I felt a sharp pain in my heart. So Aro had—at least in this instance—used his own mortal employees as emergency rations.  _How cruel._

Carlisle frowned as his eyes passed over the crumpled bodies lying in a haphazard circle around us. And the horror we felt in him as he noted their broken necks matched my own.

 _How awful!_ he thought.  _They did not deserve to die!_

Aro stiffened, expecting Carlisle to try to leap to his feet and run away. And automatically, he prepared himself to restrain Carlisle, to ensure that his friend's thirst became completely sated.

But Carlisle didn't move. The thirst in his throat was still rather acute. And his mind, suddenly began whirling with rationalizations to help him remedy that fact.

 _Well… they are already beyond saving,_ Carlisle pointed out to himself.  _And if I don't drink their blood, it will simply go to waste…_

Coming to a decision, rather than making any more protests, Carlisle closed his eyes. Then tilted his head back. And parted his lips, as if to silently petition Aro to feed him more.

Aro was incredulous at first. And so was I.

_Could Carlisle really be asking what it looked like he was asking?_

But his thoughts confirmed that more blood was what he truly desired.  _Please,_ he begged.  _Please,_   _I will not be mad,_ he half-promised, half-implored. _Please finish._

Confusion suffused through the both of us. But it wasn't hard to figure out what was going on.

While it was true that Carlisle was deeply offended that Aro had murdered for his sake. And he felt horribly guilty that he was succumbing to his instincts. He had more pressing concerns right now.

The frenzy had set in—something Alice had mentioned happened to vampires when they tasted human blood. Something that made it very hard to stop. But Carlisle's powers had not returned. So it was now physically painful to be denied satisfaction.

Aro, Carlisle and I all hissed at the same time. The pain was unlike anything any of us had ever felt before. It made the bite James had given me feel like a papercut in comparison.

 _Please, Aro my friend,_ Carlisle pleaded in this thoughts, before whimpering in pain.  _Do not leave me like this._

Brutal images of human carnage flashed before our eyes. Images that, to my horror, were accompanied with a strong feeling of excitement. And Aro, nodded, understanding.

Before Carlisle could change his mind, Aro swiftly drank more blood from the neck of the fourth mortal. He pressed his lips to Carlisle's. And slowly opened them to allow the blood to spill into the other vampire's mouth.

 _Mmmm... yes. Delicious,_ Carlisle thought blissfully as he passively let Aro feed him.

Then, the cells in Carlisle's body began to electrify with energy. And his thoughts turned ecstatic.  _Oh my, this is incredible!_   _I have never felt this way before! Why is this so exquisite?_

Carlisle mewled in pleasure. Then his thoughts took a grievous turn.  _It is so cruel that humans had to perish for this. It disgusts me how much I am pleased by what their deaths have brought me._

Not wanting to upset him, Aro paused just before dipping his head to drink up another mouthful of blood. He regarded the man lying peacefully in his lap with a somber expression. And hoped that Carlisle could see the apology in his eyes.

 _No, no! Don't stop! Please,_ Carlisle urged _._ He reached out to grasp Aro's hand. And nodded eagerly to assure him that he was okay with this.

His enthusiasm to continue bewildered me. At least, until Aro and I felt something else through Carlisle's skin. Carlisle, as it turned out, believed that allowing Aro to finish what he had started was the best thanks he could offer for saving his life.

It touched Aro, in a bizarre way that Carlisle was willing to let him feed him now, for his peace of minds' sake. And Aro treasured these moments, knowing that this would likely be the only time he would witness Carlisle so at ease with the consumption of human blood.

Carlisle's thoughts darkened slightly whenever Aro finished with one mortal and seized the next. He was clearly disturbed by having been the instigator of so much death. But when the hot blood poured into his mouth from Aro's, his guilt was entirely overridden by an immense satisfaction.

A satisfaction that had all three of us moaning with unbridled delight.

Carlisle had abstained from this pleasure for so long. To finally embrace it was an experience akin to finally achieving the sweet release from decades of unresolved sexual tension.

When at last the eighth and final human brought to us was entirely drained, Aro was about to call for another. He was even willing to break his own rules about hunting in the city. He cared that much.

But Carlisle suddenly sat up and shook his head.

His eyes were wide and bright crimson. And his bloodstained lips emitted one final gasp of ecstasy to let Aro know that his thirst was finally completely satisfied.

Aro wanted to cry—not from sadness, but from joy. The sight of Carlisle with red-flushed cheeks, bloodstained lips, properly colored skin, and eyes bright with the evidence of his satiation, was beautiful to behold. For the first time in his immortal existence, Carlisle was healthy.

But Aro also feared that it would be the last time.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for you wonderful comments so far! They really do inspire me to keep going. :D

CHAPTER EIGHT: TEMPTATION

…

_I can't adequately describe the struggle;_

_it took Carlisle two centuries of_

_torturous effort to perfect his self-control._

_Now he is all but immune to the scent of human blood,_

_and he is able to do the work he loves without agony._

\- Edward, Twilight, Chapter 15

…

"You had to revive him."

It wasn't really a question. I'd seen enough in Aro's memories to know that it was true. That Aro had been forced to perform the vampire-equivalent of CPR on Carlisle. That Carlisle really had been  _that_ close to dying. But when I came back to the present, Aro treated it like one anyway.

"Yes, Carlisle was too far gone with thirst," he answered. "So I did what was necessary to make sure he survived. And, can you honestly say that you would not do the same?" he challenged suddenly. "If it were Carlisle, or Alice, or even—" Aro directed a pale hand in the direction of Caius, who still had a struggling Edward in his grasp. "— _Edward_ that was starving?"

I stiffened.  _Would I really be so adverse to the idea of strangers dying if it meant he would live?_ I may not have loved him anymore. But I  _did_ still care. And the truth—that some random people losing their lives seemed like a fair price to pay for his—struck me with incredible force.

I was a hypocrite. And that knowledge made me feel rotten to the core.

I shook myself fiercely and tried to stay focused. "So what you're trying to tell me is that eventually, animal blood can't even help vampires live? That it's not just unhealthy, but  _lethal_ , given half-a century or so?"

"That is correct," Aro acknowledged with a wicked grin.

I shivered. And tried not to look him directly in the eye. "So… how come they're all still alive? Shouldn't the Cullens be dead, then? If animal blood isn't enough…"

"Surely, Edward has told you that his record is not perfect…" Aro drawled, and looked meaningfully at Edward.

Edward, who could read whatever it was that Aro was thinking, tensed in Caius' grip. And abruptly looked very guilty.

Then, very suddenly I did remember. Edward had mentioned that his family didn't have a spotless history of drinking animal blood. If I wasn't mistaken, all of them—with the exception of Carlisle—had killed humans. Usually on accident. But some, like Jasper, had a rather high tally of such  _accidents._

I swallowed. "So when their bodies are nearing the brink, they 'mess up', and that restores their strength for another sixty years or so. And then the cycle repeats itself?"

And to my absolute horror, Aro nodded. " _Yes,_ " he purred, sounding thrilled. "Yes, you are finally beginning to understand what you have seen."

Edward gritted his teeth. And thrashed lividly. "No! You are  _not_  getting it!" he protested. "Not at all!"

I frowned. Then whirled to glower at him. "Are you saying he's wrong?" I challenged. "That you would have been just fine without your occasional…  _mistakes_?"

Aro's grin grew in the extreme. He was very pleased with how this was all panning out.

And Edward looked like I had just hit him over the head with a frying pan. He recoiled, deeply hurt. And shot a caustic glare at Chelsea—likely blaming her for my actions.

I felt a stab of indignation. My fury with Edward right now was entirely my own.

"No," Edward ground out with much difficulty.

He seemed very mindful of Aro's gaze for some reason. And I guessed that he was watching his tongue in present company. Which was a welcome first.

"But Bella, even with our lapses, we still kill a lot less than they do," Edward felt it was necessary to point out, shooting daggers at the entire crowd of Volturi. "And isn't that a good thing?"

Objectively? Yes. Less human death was always good.

But I just couldn't get those images of Carlisle laying limp on that mahogany library table out of my head. He had looked so weak. So helpless. He'd been  _dying_.

And my heart felt like it was going to split in two from the pain that caused in me. Carlisle didn't deserve to feel that way. He didn't deserve to suffer, and weaken, and die. He deserved to thrive. To enjoy life.

_To have his thirst be satisfied._

I quivered with terror at my own thoughts.  _Aro is getting to me. I'm starting to think like him!_

"What about Carlisle?" I asked anyone who was willing to answer. "Shouldn't he be dead?"

He'd told me before that he'd never taken a human life for their blood—something I was inclined to trust given the strength of his convictions. And it had been a full three centuries since his time in Volterra.  _So_   _how is he even still alive?_

It was Alice who decided to respond. "You're right, by all accounts it doesn't make sense. But I couldn't tell you the reason," she said with a graceful shake of her head. "Carlisle hardly spoke of anything that occurred before he met Edward. And when he did mention things, he always kept the stories very vague, like he was omitting certain details, or he couldn't quite remember those days clearly."

I balked and sucked in a breath as the implications of Alice's words hit me. "You think he's used his powers to forget? That maybe he  _did_ drink human blood to keep himself going—and he just wiped it from his own memories in shame?"

Alice shrugged like it didn't matter either way. But I heartily disagreed. The idea that Carlisle could be a murderer unbeknownst to even himself made me feel sick.

At my nauseated expression, Alice snorted. "I doubt anyone  _died_ ," she said almost flippantly, like she wished they had. "But he must have gotten human blood somehow. Once in the very late seventeen-hundreds, and again in the middle of the eighteen-hundreds, if I'm not mistaken."

Aro nodded once to let Alice know her math was correct. And I swallowed uncomfortably.

"How can you know he didn't…?"

"I can't," Alice cut me off sharply. "But I do know how Carlisle has managed this last century," she told me. "He changed four vampires in relatively quick succession—Edward, Esme, Rosalie, Emmett. And each time he bit them, he did swallow a little human blood. Not enough to restore him to full-strength, but enough to limp him along for those years and maybe a decade afterwards."

I thought back to when Edward had told me the others had been changed. If I wasn't mistaken Edward had been made immortal in 1918, Esme in 1921, Rosalie in 1933, and Emmett in 1935. But if altogether the tiny sips of blood Carlisle had gotten from them when he'd bitten them had only given him one extra decade….

"…Then he was dying again by 1948," I stated.

Alice nodded. "That  _was_  one of the things I was worried about—one of the things I left to prevent," she informed us. "I knew Aro wouldn't be happy if Carlisle starved himself to death."

Aro's expression grew cavernous. And at once I knew Alice was right. Whatever animosity had grown between the two men before Carlisle's departure no longer applied it seemed. Aro clearly still thought of Carlisle as a dear friend and—like me with Edward—would do almost anything to make sure he didn't end up dead.

"So, I took it upon myself to help him," Alice told us. "He was already spending most of the time deluding himself into believing that his thirst wasn't effecting him. So I figured, what was the harm in getting him to believe one more delusion?"

_One more delusion… Wait. Was Alice really saying what I thought she was saying?_

"You tricked him?" I sputtered, unbelieving.

But Alice, to my dismay, nodded blithely. "It was for his own good really," she told me, as though that made the deception any better. "When I got to him, he was already nearing the brink again—his eyes turning black only days after every meal. So I took it upon myself to secretly slip him some human blood mixed in with his regular fare."

"Mixed in?"

I didn't understand how that was possible. Carlisle didn't exactly drink animal blood from a cup….

"Ah, yes," Aro interjected, his eyes sparkling with captivation. "Your rather ingenious plot of infusing animals with transfusions of human blood," he recalled.

I riveted in place. "You did what?" I blurted out. I was certain I had heard Aro wrong.

Alice smiled cheerfully. "It's exactly as Aro said. I would use my gift to predict which animal Carlisle was going to go for. Then, I would inject that animal with a pint or so of human blood, so that when Carlisle fed, he would be getting the nutrients he needed mixed in with the bad stuff."

"And you did that every time Carlisle hunted?" I asked, impressed if that were the case.

Alice pouted. And the expression made her look like a child. "I wasn't always perfect. Sometimes Carlisle would change his mind at the last second. And sometimes he went hunting without me. But I tried to go with him every opportunity I could. And I was successful enough times to keep him from deteriorating."

Edward's eyes widened—this was apparently the first time he was hearing of this too. And his lips curled in disgust. "You shouldn't have done that," he spat, appalled.

Alice rounded on Edward with a fierce gleam in her golden eyes. "You would rather I let him die?"

Edward went suddenly rigid at Alice's accusation. Then looked guiltily at the floor. "No… but…"

"But what, Edward?!" Alice snapped. "You think I  _wanted_  to have to do that? Ugh, it was so  _tedious_ ," she complained, like she was talking about a boring homework assignment, instead of trying to save someone's life. "More tedious even then hiding my own mixed feeding habits from you."

Edward and I balked at this new information. " _Your_  mixed feeding habits?" we both asked in unison, though his voice didn't waver like mine did.

Alice rolled her eyes at us. " _Yes. Of course,_ " she said with stern emphasis, like we were being idiots on purpose. "I hunted enough with Carlisle to maintain the 'correct' eye color." Alice made finger quotes around the word "correct," showing that she obviously disagreed. "But whenever I had the chance to get away from  _you_ —" she shot a dark look at Edward. "—I hunted as nature intended."

My heart dropped into my stomach as I heard this.  _Even during her time with the Cullens, Alice had no qualms about killing humans. All this time, it was just a ruse._

But while I my face sunk in despair, Aro's expression warmed with gratified knowing. And Caius' eyes sparked with something akin to appreciation. The white-haired vampire still did not seem too pleased that Alice had drank animal blood at all. But the fact that she had, at least on occasion, managed to fulfill her predatory instincts, seemed to ease his affronted conscience.

"What about Jasper?" I asked suddenly.

I wasn't sure why it hadn't occurred to me before. But now I was deadly curious to know how much  _he_  had been deceived throughout all of this.

Did he know that Alice had been loyal to the Volturi all along? Did he know that she had joined the Cullens only to spy on them? Did he know that she did not adhere to their beliefs?

I couldn't decide which was worse. The idea that Alice had  _lied_  all these years to a man who clearly  _adored_ her. Or the idea that Jasper was in on the charade.

Both were bad. Albeit for different reasons.

Alice tensed. And all of sudden, it looked like she was about to cry. "Do you recall what my first vision was upon becoming a vampire?" she choked out, her eyes welling with venom.

"Yes…" I began hesitantly.

I failed to see how this was relevant. But Alice looked deeply upset. And I didn't want to send her over the edge.

"You saw Jasper, and knew that you would marry him someday," I added for good measure, hoping to prod Alice along into further explanation.

"I would become his mate, yes," Alice clarified rather insistently in a startlingly sharp tone. "The distinction may not be important to you, but to vampires mates and marriages are two different things. They usually coincide, but not always," she explained quickly.

"Okay, so you and Jasper were going to be…  _mates,_ then," I conceded, surprised that Alice would waste her breath on what I perceived to be such a trivial matter.

"Yes, I always knew that he was one for me," she said with genuine emotion. "So I made sure to be there when he wandered into that Philadelphia diner in 1948. And I saw no reason not to let him come with me while I spent the next two years tracking down Carlisle. After all, we were young, and in love."

I nodded. I knew this story.

"But he, like Carlisle, has a hard time with killing humans," Alice went on. "His powers make it difficult you see," she explained. "He feels everything his victims do while they're dying. And that's, well… understandably off-putting."

I shuddered all over. No wonder Jasper kept trying to adhere to the Cullen lifestyle, even though he struggled the most. It had never really made sense to me before. And I had always sort of assumed that Jasper resented the Cullens for introducing him to a diet that clashed so fiercely with his instincts.

But now I understood. I couldn't imagine experiencing a vampire feeding from the  _other_  end of things would be very pleasant to endure.

I shook myself to clear away the horrible images that were starting to creep into my head. "But does he know?" I demanded, getting back to the point. "Does he know that you're with—" I gestured broadly around the room, indicating the Volturi guard, "—them? Does he know that you weren't really trying to be humane, just keeping up appearances?"

Alice, to my simultaneous relief and horror, nodded. "He knows. I wasn't going to lie to him about that."

"But…?" I prompted, sensing there was something more.

"But he isn't happy about it," Alice revealed with a sigh. "And he kept entertaining the idea that maybe I would change my mind… that instead of me eventually returning here, that I would stay with him indefinitely, and maybe give Carlisle's diet a sincere shot."

Alice wrinkled her nose in obvious distaste. "As if I would ever do that…"

I looked down at my sneakers, which were still a bit soggy. "Then what is he going to do now?" I asked next.

_If Jasper wanted to stay a Cullen, and Alice wanted to resume being a more-or-less full-time Volturi, then what was the couple going to do? Were they going to be split apart?_

Alice sighed. "He should be getting the message I left for him soon. The one that will let him know I'm not coming back to the Cullens," she told me. "And, then it is up to him if he decides to come here."

_Up to him, huh?_   _What_ _ **would**_ _Japer decide?_  I wondered.  _Is his love of Alice stronger than his commitment to Carlisle's diet?_

A week ago I would have said "without a doubt". But now I wasn't so sure.  _If feeding on humans really is that painful for him…._

"I  _do_  hope coming to us is the path he chooses," Alice interjected, suddenly. "I rather like that future," she said somewhat wistfully, as she reviewed the possibility in her mind. "But it's still very much up in the air. He  _could_ decide not to come. Then I would have to go to him, to try and persuade him. Which will be a lot less fun."

Alice pouted again.

And I felt suddenly uneasy. "He's not going to break up with you, is he?"

Alice regarded me like I was an idiot. "Mates don't 'break up', Bella," she instructed me firmly. "Once we're bonded, it's for eternity. There's no going back."

I jolted where I stood.  _No going back?_

I wasn't sure if I liked Alice's phrasing. Eternal love sounded great and all. But what if you made a mistake? What if you fell for the wrong person? What if they lied to you? Betrayed you?  _Beat_  you?

_Was there no escape, even then?_

I shivered at the thought.

"So, what you're saying is, he'll come around?" I asked, not sure what Alice was getting at.

"Eventually," she said, heavy sadness burdening her voice. "Though it might take a thousand years."

I balked at the figure Alice was giving. "A  _thousand_ years?"

Alice waved her hands back and forth frantically to dissuade that train of thought. "That's an  _extremely_ unlikely future. Right now, it's much more probable that he'll come to us in a few months," she said to reassure me.

And I did feel a lot better. A few months wasn't so bad. At least, not compared with  _a thousand years._

I gave Alice a short nod, to let her know I understood everything she'd told me thus far. Then I held up a hand like I was a student again. "One more question."

"Shoot," Alice encouraged brightly.

"How come Jasper struggles so much with Carlisle's diet? I mean, he's so much  _worse_  at it than the others…"

I tried not to come off sounding like I was raking him over the coals or anything. Especially in light of what Alice had told me—that when Jasper  _did_ mess up, it was, in part, a horrible experience because of his powers. But I wasn't sure I fully succeeded.

Alice's little pout turned into a genuine frown. Then she turned to face Aro.

"Could you show her the next part, please?" she asked politely. Though there was a certain edge to her voice I didn't like—an edge of command. "I think it will explain rather nicely."

Aro nodded instantly in comprehension. Then he directed a hand toward his daughter Lucretia to complete the chain of mind-sharing once more.

She took my hand again without hesitation. And before I could even ask Aro or Alice what they were talking about, I was sucked back—like a piece of dust through a vacuum tube—into Aro's memories of the past.

…

The tall mahogany bookcases of the Volturi library filtered back into view. Aro—whose eyes I was seeing through—was sitting opposite Carlisle at one of the little matching wooden desks. And while Carlisle perused a thin, leather-bound journal full of medical notes, Aro marveled at what had happened only the day before.

Carlisle had done the one thing he had sworn never to do above all else. He had finally tasted human blood.

"I cannot seem to get yesterday's event out of my head," Aro confessed to the younger vampire, rousing him from his reading.

Carlisle blinked, and looked up at us. And I couldn't help the tingle of horror that shot down my spine at seeing his vibrant, crimson eyes. There was something deeply, deeply wrong about  _Carlisle_  of all people, having an eye-color that hinted at human death.

Of course, Aro did not share my horror. In fact, the very same sight which terrified me,  _delighted_ him.

"I honestly expected more resistance…" Aro went on, half-lost in a dreamscape featuring a heavily violent Carlisle. "But I suppose I should not be surprised," he remarked, coming back to earth suddenly. "After all, you enjoyed the taste quite a lot."

Carlisle cringed at the reminder. And feeling ashamed, he turned his head away from us.

"I appreciate what you did to save my life. But I rather wish I hadn't tasted human blood" he admitted. "Before I could only imagine what I was missing, but now…"

Carlisle trailed off with a tone of passionate longing, clenching a single fist on the table beside the open journal. And Aro and I were both surprised to see Carlisle's tongue unconsciously wet his lips at the memory.

"…You know exactly what you are denying yourself," Aro finished for him.

"Precisely," Carlisle breathed, sounding exasperated, and looking guiltier than ever.

Aro sighed and shook his head.

_Really Carlisle, there is no reason for you to be ashamed. What you are feeling is only natural._

"I did not expect it to feel so…  _good,_ " Carlisle went on, still paralyzed with guilt. "It sickens me how  _overpowering_  it was."

Aro frowned. "You cannot help how your body reacts. It was simply trying to reward you, for drinking the right thing for once," he said sourly. "For most vampires it is a regular experience. Albeit, one we rather enjoy…"

Aro trailed off rapturously. And I tried to block out his thoughts as they turned, both gruesome, and elated. But of course, they seeped through my feeble attempts to tune them out. And there was nowhere I could run, and no way for me to scream as the vivid, gory images bombarded my mind.

"Well, I can no longer fault you for enjoying it." Carlisle exhaled, and shook his head. "I am only concerned that the taste will seduce me into drinking it again…"

Carlisle shuddered at the thought. It obviously terrified him that his bodily urges might compel him to override his most basic morals.

But Aro had the opposite reaction.

"Let it," he encouraged.

Carlisle abruptly looked appalled. "No!" he cried, vehemently waving his hands back and forth in disapproval. "I refuse to kill anyone."

Aro fought the urge to bury his head in his hands and groan. "Dear Carlisle, after what has happened, surely you cannot intend to go  _back_ to drinking animal blood?"

Carlisle regarded Aro quizzically. "Why not?"

Aro pulled a face like Carlisle was being difficult on purpose. And crossed his arms staunchly over his chest. "Because you nearly  _perished_!" he said through his teeth.

"That was only because I was careless," Carlisle argued—though Aro and I both knew that wasn't true in the slightest. "I'll be more careful next time," he promised smoothly.

But Aro resolutely shook his head, finally coming to a decision. "There will not be a next time," he stated with authority.

Carlisle started in his seat. And his crimson eyes flickered with suspicion. "You are going to forbid me from hunting?"

He sounded like he found that hard to believe.

And that was a good thing, because he was right. Aro wasn't _that_  cruel.

Aro's forehead crumpled with hurt, and his lips twisted into a wounded frown. "Of course not, Carlisle," he vowed, splaying a hand across his chest to indicate his sincerity. "However, I can no longer endorse it. And will do everything in my power to try and persuade you otherwise…"

Carlisle instantly relaxed. "Your words will not get you anywhere, Aro," he declared confidently.

But Aro already knew this. "You are correct," he instantly agreed—which caught Carlisle off-guard. "Which is why, when your eyes begin to darken, I will not be using  _words_ to try and convince you."

Carlisle looked totally bewildered now. "What do you mean?"

Aro grinned, baring almost all of his teeth. "You will see."

…

It took a while for the color to begin fading from Carlisle's irises—longer than I'd been expecting. While it only took the Cullens two weeks to go from brightest gold to darkest black, Carlisle spent an entire month after his copious meal of human blood without the slightest change in intensity. And most of the second with only a slight dimming.

It wasn't until the very end of that second month that his eyes grew as dull as the modern Volturi's were. And that was when the "fun" started.

As Aro turned off the "fast-forward" features on his memories, and they started moving forward at a regular pace, I slowly became aware that someone was screaming. The sound was high, and grating in Aro's impeccable hearing. But he was determined not to let it bother him. He was on an important mission right now. And nothing as trivial as a wailing human woman was going to stop him.

_Wait… a wailing human woman?_

I tried to make Aro look down, as that seemed to be where the noise was coming from. Though, of course, he didn't do it. But as the memory came into sharper clarity, I felt something in his grip. Something that was trying with all its might to get away, but couldn't escape the cold, stony prison of Aro's arms.

I felt sick as he hauled the thing along against its will. And the screaming only grew louder as we progressed down the dark hallway. It reached a piercing decibel when we approached the heavy double doors that marked the library entrance. And when those doors came into view, immediately I realized what was going on.

Aro was dragging a human—probably one of his secretaries, since she seemed  _very_  aware of the fact that she was going to die—into the library. And I could only think of one reason why he might do such a thing.

Once I had it figured out, I wanted to scream at Aro, myself. Carlisle didn't deserve to be subjected to this. But, of course, my voice had no sound in Aro's memory. And I fully understood—even if the idea made my stomach churn—that Aro believed he was doing the right thing.

After a minute, he hissed irritably at the struggling mortal to shut her up. Then lightly tapped open one of the library doors with his foot. And pulled the woman along into the large, cluttered room beyond them.

Her shrill cries turned to soft whimpers now as Aro's overwhelming collection filled our vision. But, through Aro's gift, I knew she was still scared out of her mind. And had only quieted down because she feared that something even worse would happen to her if she did not.

Still, her little, choked gasps were loud enough in the silence of the library to alert Carlisle. He was sitting at his usual table, with a very bored looking Demetri standing guard only a few feet away. And both men looked up immediately when Aro entered to room.

Aro fixed his gaze first on Demetri. "Leave us," he instructed.

Demetri didn't question his master, or even hesitate. As soon as Aro gave the order, he was on his way out the door, his charcoal black cloak trailing in his wake.

And that left Aro and Carlisle alone in the library.

Well, alone with a pathetically whimpering human woman. But Aro, like Alec before, didn't really count her as a full person.

Carlisle, once he realized what Aro was carrying, leapt to his feet and passed in front of the mahogany reading table immediately. His movements were more fluid and graceful than I was used to seeing—even through Aro's eyes. And I wondered if his temporary shift in diet could explain it.

"Aro!" Carlisle cried in alarm. "What are you doing?"

He then began frantically looking for an excuse he could use to tell Aro not to do this. At least, not here. Not in front of him.

"I thought feeding in the library was forbidden?" he decided on, at last.

"I am willing to make an exception this time," Aro said, pulling the woman tighter against his body, and caressing the soft, hot skin of her neck with the tip of his nose.

The woman quavered in Aro's grasp as his nose touched her skin. She didn't find his icy touch very comforting, especially given the circumstances.

But I was more surprised at what I was feeling through Aro.

The humans he had bitten before had been unsettlingly warm. But they had already been dead a few minutes. This woman, who—for the moment at least—was still very much alive, had skin that was almost burning. And it was so strange to experience the vast difference in human and vampire body temperatures from the other end.

While Aro continued to draw unintelligible patterns on the woman's skin with his nose, Carlisle audibly swallowed and averted his gaze. "Does it have to be here?" he asked with a note of pleading.

"You do not wish it to happen here?" Aro asked, feigning surprise. Because of course he already knew the answer to that.

Carlisle shuddered—it was a full-body affair. And looked pointedly at the carpet. "No. Please take your…" he struggled with the word. "… _meal_  somewhere else."

Aro drew away from the woman's neck instantly. He was going to get tempted if he lingered there too long—the scent coming off of her skin was very strong. And that would rather defeat the purpose of this whole thing…

"Ah, but she is not  _my_  meal," Aro said, like it should have been obvious. "Unless, you are willing to share?"

"Share? Wha—?" Carlisle began to ask.

But Aro didn't give Carlisle any more time for his devastating revelation to sink in. Immediately afterwards, he brandished a small knife from some unseen pocket. And drew it sharply across the woman's throat.

The murder was so sudden, I didn't have any time to react.

A fountain of blood shot out the woman's severed neck. It splattered the once-immaculate carpet scarlet instantly. And it filled the musty library air with a heavenly aroma. An aroma that made Aro's teeth drip with venom. And his entire body thrum with desire.

And he wasn't even that thirsty.

But Carlisle, who was, had a much stronger reaction. In addition to all the symptoms Aro exhibited, his dark red eyes grew the size of saucers. His feet lurched forward automatically. And an animalistic sound ripped from him—a sound that made all the hairs on the back of my human neck stand on end.

Aro grinned, pleased with himself.

_Carlisle is just like one of us, after all. He cannot deny what his body wants._

But Aro's pleasure waned after a moment when he realized Carlisle wasn't moving any further than that initial lurch. Rather than closing the distance between himself and delicious satisfaction, he'd frozen halfway. And was doing everything in his power to keep it that way.

Carlisle's hands were balled in tight fists at his sides. His jaw was clenched with enough force to bite through metal. And his eyes were squeezed firmly shut.

"Carlisle, it is pointless to resist," Aro said in his most seductive voice. It sent a whole different kind of shivers down my spine. "Look," he baited, in a futile attempt to get Carlisle to open his eyes. "She is already dying. And I would hate to waste all this—" he gestured at the veritable faucet of blood, and was about to continue.

But Carlisle cut him off with a growl. "If you're so worried about waste, why not drink her yourself?"

Aro arched an eyebrow at this. He had never gotten anything this close to an endorsement of his feeding habits from Carlisle before. But as the blood kept pouring from the woman's throat, and she grew more and more slack against him, he had to concede that Carlisle had a point. He  _did_ hate to waste.

So, he tried another tactic.

Aro let the woman's almost completely exsanguinated body crumple to the floor. Then he traced the fingers of his left hand across the wound in her neck. His hand came away soaked with blood. And, to see it this might induce Carlisle's frenzy, Aro wavered his stained fingers tantalizingly underneath Carlisle's nose.

Carlisle reacted to this too. But not way Aro had hoped.

Instead of seizing Aro's hand and trying feverishly to lick the blood off of it, Carlisle scrunched his nose shut. And tried not to breathe.

Aro, swiftly running out of options, pressed his bloody hand to Carlisle's cheek, to see if the  _texture_  might garner the reaction he wanted. But other than flinching as the gooey substance coated his skin, Carlisle did nothing. And Aro sighed in total exasperation.

Even through the filmy layer of blood, Aro's powers worked just fine. And he saw through them that Carlisle was using every tool in his gift's arsenal to tune out everything he was experiencing.

The dry scratching that should have been irritating his throat…. The wonderful aroma of freshly spilt blood…. Even the sticky feeling of it touching his face…. None of it was there.

Aro snarled in vexation and yanked away his hand like it had been burned. "You  _cheat_ , Carlisle!"

"No,  _you_  cheat, Aro," Carlisle countered, speaking through his teeth, so as to not inhale any more air than strictly necessary. "This is not persuasion. It's  _manipulation_ ," he seethed.

Aro groaned. "I am merely trying to keep you alive!" he protested. "If you were not so stubborn, this would not be necessary!"

"Well, it did not work," Carlisle countered, trying to keep his voice level. "So please, have someone come clean this up." He gestured irritably in the direction of the human woman's bloody corpse. "And let me read in peace."

I was surprised by Carlisle's words. He'd never called a person, dead or alive  _"this"_ before. Like they were some kind of thing.

And I also expected Aro to resist. To come up with some clever rebuttal. But to my surprise, just then, Aro did just what Carlisle had requested.

He poked his head out of the library double doors into the hallway to call for a cleaning crew. And when several Volturi carrying buckets and mops flitted in, he swept out of the room, leaving Carlisle alone amidst the bookcases.

But I was fool to think Aro's underhanded methods of "persuasion" were over. He tried again with the same tactic at the end of every month—trying to catch Carlisle in the rare moments he wasn't in the library, since getting all that blood out of the carpet had been a real pain.

But every time Carlisle resisted his natural urges. And Aro was forced to consume the human himself. Or give their half-drained body to some member of his guard. And it was starting to drive Aro nuts.

Especially when Carlisle reached the end of his fourth month since the "incident" as Aro had taken to calling it. And he still had not drank any blood, human or otherwise.

His eyes, were once again coal black. And all the other accompanying signs of starvation were there—greenish skin, dark purple circles surrounding his eyes, stilted, lethargic movements. And yet still, Carlisle had not left the castle to feed. Or accepted any of Aro's generous offerings.

And that was when Aro decided he needed to stop. He was driving Carlisle to starve himself out of spite. Just to prove that he could.

And that was the exact opposite of what Aro wanted to have happen.

…

"I want to call a truce, Carlisle," Aro told Carlisle when he walked into the library one day, four months after the "incident".

Carlisle didn't even bother to look up from his book. He was obviously upset with Aro's behavior over the past several months. And a few kind words weren't going to change that. At least, not without some actual backing.

Aro sighed a drifted closer to the table where Carlisle sat. "I am truly sorry for upsetting you. And I promise I will not try to trick you into drinking human blood any longer."

Carlisle snorted. But still did not look up. "You  _promise_ ," he said in a voice thick with sarcasm. "And what are your promises worth, Aro? I'm certain you  _promise_  your secretaries you mean them no harm… only to slash them open in front of me not a day later."

Aro grimaced at Carlisle's hard-hitting words. But did not contest them. "Then, how about I make a bargain with you, to convince you of my sincerity?"

Carlisle scoffed. "And what could you possibly offer me?" He clearly didn't believe that Aro had anything worthwhile to give.

But Aro didn't miss a beat. He knew from Carlisle's mind what the younger vampire really wanted.

"Access to my private collection."

Carlisle head finally lifted from his book. And he looked at Aro with a mix of heavy doubt and barely contained excitement. "You would not really let me—"

"I would," Aro avowed, swiftly cutting him off. "But  _only_  if you can prove to me that your diet will not lead to your wasting away again."

Carlisle's face turned sour again. He seemed to believe Aro was making this bargain unfair on purpose. "And how am I supposed to do that?"

"I have decided to conduct an experiment," Aro declared.

Carlisle's eyes sparkled with delight. He liked that sound of that. "An experiment? Have you finally decided you want to try my way for yourself?"

Aro closed his eyes, and sadly shook his head. "No, I will not be drinking the blood of beasts," he asserted firmly, not bothering to mask his clear revulsion at the thought. "But I want to see its effects on others."

_Well, more importantly I want_ _ **you**_ _to see its effects on others. That way you will be forced to conclude that it is unhealthy,_ Aro thought, but didn't add.

"And how do you propose we go about this experiment?" Carlisle probed.

Carlisle had a point there. An experiment of this nature was not the easiest thing to arrange. Aro would need to acquire several newborn vampires and a few willing, older volunteers in order to perform it properly. But it was such a fabulous idea, Aro wasn't worried about the logistics just yet.

Carlisle was already agreeing to participate. And the data they gleaned from such an experiment would not only demonstrate Carlisle's own difficulties to him in a manner he could not deny, but would satisfy Aro's curiosity as well. Through an experiment, Aro could unveil  _all_  of the side-effects, not simply the obvious ones, of living on animal blood.

"I will let you know when I have the specifics," Aro informed Carlisle.

Carlisle nodded, accepting this. Then something unsettling appeared to cross his mind, and his eyes flickered with misgiving. "And if… I am unable to prove that animal blood is sustainable to your satisfaction…?" he prompted uncertainly.

_Did Carlisle really doubt his diet so much that he was unwilling to test it on others?_  Aro wondered suddenly.  _Did his recent lapse truly shake his faith in it that much?_

"Not that I doubt myself, of course," Carlisle rushed to clarify, seeing Aro's expression. "I simply wanted to know your side of things. You did say it was a  _bargain,_ " he stressed.

Aro's lips pulled into a smile. But it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yes. I did say that," he acknowledged. "And here are my terms: If you cannot prove to my satisfaction that your way of life will not cause you lasting harm, I will have to ask you to start drinking human blood."

Carlisle would have paled if he could have gotten any whiter. But he didn't back down. "And if I refuse?" he challenged.

"Then I will have to ask you to leave," Aro said with obvious reluctance. "I will not watch you waste away."

Carlisle's face fell when he heard Aro's words. It hurt him a lot to hear that—even though he'd been halfway expecting it.

And somewhere far away, I sucked in a deep breath. Aro's bargain was a hard one. But I didn't blame him for his terms. I didn't think I could stand to watch Carlisle slowly starve to death again, either.

Carlisle took a moment to look forlornly at his shoes. He seemed to be weighing his options. Should he accept Aro's bargain and have a chance at proving himself, even if that chance turned out to be horribly rigged? Or should he pack his bags and concede defeat now? And which was the nobler option?

There was a long minute of silence while Carlisle thought it over. And then, without warning, his hand suddenly shot out in our direction.

"Deal," he declared, seizing Aro's hand and giving it a firm shake.

Aro's smile turned genuine as he returned the gesture. "Deal," he agreed.

…

Setting up the experiment took a few months—months during which Carlisle had resumed his habit of hunting animals. But at last, near the end of Aro and Carlisle's twentieth year living together, Aro had all of the pieces in place.

They met in an unfamiliar room one Sunday morning, to set everything up. There were window slits carved up high into the stone walls, like in the turret room. And I could tell it was morning because they cast dim, pink rectangles on the cinnamon brown stone below.

Carlisle was even standing in the path of one, his radiant skin throwing rainbow flecks onto the surrounding walls. And Aro beside him, only narrowly missed the early morning rays.

But today, unlike many times in the past, Aro and Carlisle were not alone. The two female bodyguards that followed Aro almost everywhere, unless they were explicitly shooed away, flanked his sides again. And two other vampires—a man and a woman I had never seen before—with dark hair and washed-out, olive complexions stood a little way off, their Volturi pendants glinting in the early morning light.

Next to these two unfamiliar Volturi was a small crowd of ten, blush-faced mortals, of varying ages and origins. There were six men and four women. And I counted at least one from every continent.

But more surprising than their diversity was how unable I was to ignore them from Aro's perspective. Their heartbeats thundered loudly in the air. And their smell…

_Metallic. Warm. Delicious…_

With ten of them here, magnifying the intensity, the scent of blood in the air was overpowering. And it was only many, many millennia of practice, and Aro's reasonably sated thirst that kept him calm in the presence of such hearty temptation.

One of the human females—a platinum blonde with very strong, Nordic features—laughed quietly then. And I realized suddenly, that all of the humans were engaged in hushed, but excited conversation with the male vampire. Something I hadn't noticed before, because of how distracting their pumping hearts were.

I marveled at the group for a moment longer.  _What were so many humans doing here? And especially when it doesn't look like Aro intends them to be someone's dinner…?_

But before I could even begin to piece a solid theory together, Aro's gaze swiveled to the other side of the room. And I caught sight of another startling grouping that immediately garnered my full attention.

Tucked away in the opposite corner from the crowd of humans, were three vampires. Two I recognized instantly from their black hair and Grecian features as Marcus and Didyme. But the third, who also shared these traits, was tiny—appearing at most, to be two-years of age. And, like Titania and Lucretia, I fell in love with him instantly.

How could I not? With his adorably disarrayed, short black hair? His chubby, pale cheeks? And those tiny white fingers of his that were clutching his mother' much larger hand so fervently?

It was too much.

At least, until I noticed something else about the little boy—Tristan, I think his name was. Something horrifying enough to mitigate some of his overwhelming cuteness.

Although the little vampire boy had same vibrantly crimson eyes and subtly flushed cheeks Carlisle had possessed just moments after feeding, he was looking with undisguised longing at the gaggle of humans across the room. And fidgeting supernaturally fast in his mother's iron grip. Like he wanted badly to escape. And bury all of his diminutive teeth in one of their necks.

I shuddered and tried very hard to look away. But it was a few more agonizing minutes before Aro decided he wanted to do that. And the subtle rising of warmth in Aro's unbeating heart before he refocused his gaze on Carlisle, made me feel sick.

Aro, apparently did not think Tristan's thirst for human blood made him any less cute. If anything, in his eyes, it only made him  _more_  adorable.

"We are ready to proceed with the experiment," Aro told Carlisle with an air of grandeur, the austerity in his voice shaking me from my thoughts.

"Eleazar—" Aro pointed to the adult male vampire. "—has found ten humans with powers that interest me. Humans I intended to transform anyway, but may be of use in this experiment."

"Found?" Carlisle asked, his golden eyes switching, puzzled, between the small crowd of humans, and Eleazar. "And how was he able to find so many with powers so quickly?"

I was glad that Carlisle was asking that question, because it was one I had myself.  _How_ _ **had**_ _Eleazar managed to pull together so many with powers significant enough to pique Aro's attention with such short notice?_  It wasn't like powerful talents grew on trees…

"Ah, you see, that is Eleazar's gift. The ability to sense talents in others, even those that have not yet been awakened," Aro explained, gesturing once again at the man. "It is a very useful gift, I must admit…" he added, with no attempt to mask his delight.

While Aro clapped excitedly, we caught Didyme, in the corner of our vision, rolling her eyes. "Of course you would find a talent like  _his_  useful," she muttered, her melodious voice tainted with exasperation, and something else. Was it  _jealousy?_  "You are always collecting. Expanding your sphere of power…"

She shook her head gracefully. But the look on her face was almost as sour as Caius' usual expression.

Though I couldn't fathom what had her so upset.  _Did she have some kind of power that I didn't know about? Something that Aro didn't even think was worth **mentioning**  in his own thoughts?_

Carlisle, for whatever reason, seemed to find this exchange between the two siblings telling. "Is he new?" he asked, regarding Eleazar.

Aro nodded enthusiastically. "He and his mate Carmen—" Aro pointed to the olive-skinned female at Eleazar's side, "—joined just last month. And we are  _so very happy_  to have them with us."

Aro beamed radiantly at the pair. And they smiled shyly back.

I guessed they weren't sure yet if they shared Aro's enthusiasm for being part of the Volturi. And I wasn't sure I blamed them. Being one of Aro's chess pieces, while flattering, was a little dehumanizing. All too often Aro treated his guard more like shiny toys than people.

Carlisle, who seemed to be eager to get to the point, needlessly cleared his throat. "So, you are going to allow me to feed these people—" he pointed at the small crowd of humans, "—animal blood once they are turned? They are going to be my only test subjects?"

At first I wasn't sure why that made Carlisle upset—ten newly turned vampires to test his diet on seemed extremely generous to me. But then, Carlisle spoke again, and it all became clear.

"Should we not also test my diet on those who have already been exposed to human blood?" he asked. "Just to be thorough?"

That seemed fair. And, to my great pleasure, Aro agreed.

"Carmen and Didyme have also volunteered," he told Carlisle, calmly, and casually as though he were discussing the weather.

But Carlisle's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline when he heard this. And his golden eyes widened like saucers. "Eleazar's wife, and  _your_ sister?"

He seemed to find the latter especially unlikely. He shot a disbelieving look first at Aro, and then at Didyme. "You volunteered?" he queried, clearly dubious.

Didyme nodded politely. "I have always been curious…" she began to explain somewhat sheepishly, as though she was embarrassed by her own interest. "Your way of life does not require human death. And although I have accepted what I am, I did not choose this life."

Carlisle blinked quizzically. "But Aro told me that he transformed you?"

He seemed to think something wasn't adding up. And I was inclined to agree.  _What had Aro been thinking?_

Didyme sighed. "Yes. That he did," she admitted. "But I did not know, before my brother bit me, what I was getting myself into. He promised I would be stronger, and that I wouldn't age. But drinking human blood…"

Didyme shivered ever so slightly—like she was reliving an unpleasant memory.

I felt a pang of empathy for her.  _Aro hadn't warned her? About the most important part?_

Carlisle nodded at once in comprehension. Then shot Aro a dark look. "You omitted that detail, didn't you?"

"I did not feel it necessary to share at the time," was all he said in response.

It wasn't exactly an excuse. But it wasn't really an admission of culpability either.

"But the past is not important," Aro interjected dismissively. "What is important, is that, despite my reservations toward your diet, Carlisle, I am allowing my sister to try it, both to atone for my own oversight, and as an act of good faith."

Carlisle swallowed, and regarded Didyme's happy face uneasily. "Are you sure this is wise, Aro?"

He clearly did not like the idea of having Aro's own sister in on the experiment. And I could understand that. If somehow the experiment went horribly wrong, Aro would be a lot angrier at Carlisle for endangering his sister.

"Should your diet really work as you claim, she will face no harm," Aro said, not only placate Carlisle, but also to issue an indirect challenge.

"I see…" Carlisle said thoughtfully, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his chin.

"Are you ready to move forward with the experiment, then?" Aro queried hopefully.

He reached eagerly across the space separating him and Carlisle, wanting to know Carlisle's true feelings. And Carlisle made no move to shy away from Aro's touch. But he did purse his lips when Aro made contact. And then, while Aro poured over his thoughts, his gaze drifted to survey the gaggle of humans surrounding Eleazar.

His eyes roved over the small party with interest for a moment, trying to figure out what latent powers they possessed. What powers that intrigued Aro enough to make them vampires. But after a moment of examining the ten humans, his face fell. And the reason for Carlisle's sadness struck us suddenly.

_I'm upset that Aro is going to change them into vampires,_ Carlisle thought.

At first, I was shocked. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I mean, Carlisle was extremely reluctant to turn  _one_ person, Edward, even two hundred years later, because he was worried about damning another creature. So of course he would be hesitant to allow Aro to inflict the curse of vampirism on  _ten_  people.

But it was also obvious from the thoughts pouring in through Carlisle's skin that he really didn't see there being any other choice. Feeding these ten people animal blood after their transformation was the only shot Carlisle had at proving his diet's sustainability. And Aro had mentioned he was going to transform them anyway…

Carlisle rapidly came to a decision then. And Aro beamed as it flooded our consciousness.

Carlisle's mind was steadfast. He wanted to do this experiment. Despite any possible obstacles that might crop up along the way.

"Yes. I would appreciate this opportunity very much," Carlisle replied firmly. "It would allow me the chance to prove to you that there are in fact other ways one can satisfy their thirst, if one labors hard enough."

Images of Aro with golden eyes, and surrounded by circles of happy, uneaten mortals, danced fancifully before our eyes. I guessed this was Carlisle's vision of a perfect future.

But Aro didn't agree. He, for one, reveled in his monthly bloodshed. And in his own imaginations of a perfect world it was Carlisle who shared  _his_  eye color, rather than the other way around.

Aro flashed a wicked grin. And he nodded. "Yes… it will be very interesting indeed."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another kind of intense chapter! Hope you all are still enjoying this story!

 

CHAPTER NINE: EXPERIMENTATION

…

_Though the rest of them had given up the traditional diet of vampires_

_just as absolutely as Carlisle had,_

_he was the only one who could bear the smell of my blood_

_without suffering from the intense temptation._

_Clearly this was much more difficult than he made it seem_

\- Bella, New Moon, Chapter 2

…

Aro skipped ahead to the next day. And this time he and Carlisle were convened in an unfamiliar room. It was reasonably large and built with the same sienna bricks I was used to seeing in the Volturi fortress. And I guessed it must have been somewhere in the catacombs just underneath the ground level—for the walls smelled moist, like the tunnels I'd come in through.

But the room itself had been tidied up so well it was hard to tell. There wasn't a trace of water or dust anywhere. And even the candelabras which brought some much needed illumination to this dark, musty place, seemed relatively free of stray wax.

As Aro's eyes took everything in, I realized the room wasn't empty. Twelve narrow cots with clean, snugly fitting sheets, lined both walls, their wrought-iron bedframes gleaming dully in the orange light. And on every cot, except for two empty ones on the left side, was one of the humans I'd seen the day before.

Or at least, they  _had_  been humans. I wasn't sure they counted as human  _anymore_. Their hearts were still pounding thunderously. And the smell of human blood was still strong with them. But each one had an identical, crescent-shaped bite-mark on their left wrist—most of which looked very fresh. And they were all writhing, and several shrieking in obvious agony, atop their immaculate sheets.

In short, they were all in the process of turning into vampires.

While the humans screamed, Aro floated slowly down the aisle between the beds, examining with interest how his test subjects were developing. He'd separated the party by sex—the males on his right, and the females on his left. And as he passed each one, he thought of their names, of their ages and nationalities, and of the powers Eleazar had detected in them.

The males were:

_Heinrich, Age 35, German. Power: Mental distraction._

_Lomasi, Age 27, South American. Power: Emotional Manipulation—but only with anger._

_Mel, Age: 31, Greek. Power: Gift Transference._

_Afton, Age 19, Swedish. Power: Personal Invisibility._

_Zain, Age 42, African. Power: Physical shield._

_Chen, Age 19, Chinese. Power: Teleportation._

And the females were:

_Kalifa. Age 15, African. Power: Creates Shockwaves._

_Yvonne, Age 21, Swedish. Power: Temperature Manipulation._

_Ting, Age 17, Chinese. Power: Telekinesis._

_Vera, Age 23, German. Power: Healing._

As Aro passed the cots, I was surprised to recognize two of the faces. Both Vera and Afton had been part of the crowd of Volturi convened in the present—meaning that they had managed to stay a part of the coven for over three hundred years. But the rest were unfamiliar to me. And I wondered what that meant.

Knowing Aro's penchant for collecting formidable powers, I found it hard to understand.  _Why would Aro discard something as cool as telekinesis? Or teleportation? Did he decide, after they were transformed, that their powers really were not all they had been cracked up to be, and kick them out? Was it possible that Eleazar had been wrong?_

I doubted that. So it just didn't make sense. And as Aro passed down the aisle between the cots one more time, I decided there must be something I was missing. Something that I probably wasn't going to like when I found out.

…

It took three days for the humans-turned-vampire to finish screaming. Then, Aro had Carmen and Didyme join the group, taking the two empty cots on the left side. And the experiment officially began.

Aro had set a tentative time-limit on the project, of 1 year. In part, this limit made Carlisle happy, because he had only run into an issue himself  _sixty_ -years down the line. But it also made him sad because it wasn't much time to prove anything. Though Aro assured Carlisle that the limit was up for debate when that year was completed. He simply did not want to promise too much just yet.

The consequences of that, Aro feared, could be disastrous.

Whatever the case was—whether Carlisle could convince Aro to give him an extension after that one year or not—during that time, all participants of the experiment were going to be fed animal blood. And all the while the twelve would be measured against their human-drinking peers, to see what ill-effects, if any, they suffered from.

It was a sound enough plan. Though at first, I thought there were some obvious flaws in the set-up.

Initially, Aro had insisted that the test subjects be free to roam the castle at their leisure. He didn't want them to feel like prisoners, after all.

But I wasn't sure that was such a good idea with Aro's human secretaries milling about… The newly turned vampires, were going to get thirsty, after all….

And to my horror, they quickly proved me right. Vera, in her hunger, devoured one of Aro's secretaries at the first opportunity. And while I was reeling from the news of the violence, Aro became worried that this would tamper with Carlisle's test results. So, on that first day, he established a rule that the newborns had to be accompanied by an escort at all times to ensure that they  _only_ drank animal blood. And they were expected to report back to the room filled with cots for examination every night.

With these parameters set, and no ensuing "accidents", Aro gave Carlisle full-charge over the experiment. And for the next few weeks, he left him in the catacombs to his own devices.

For now, it seemed, he was more interested in exploring the potential powers Eleazar had promised him.

…

As it so happened, all of the powers Eleazar had predicted manifested in the newborn vampires. There were no "duds" or "mistakes". And Aro was even more surprised to find that only two were disappointments.

Heinrich—a grizzled, middle-aged German fisherman, with a salt-and-pepper beard—was the second biggest disappointment. His ability to disrupt and scatter thoughts wasn't something he could really control. Instead, everyone who got near him was effected. Which was more irritating and distracting than useful.

And Afton—a skinny Swedish kid with short, white-blonde hair—was almost completely useless. He could only make  _himself_  invisible. And even then, the illusion only really worked when he was only being observed by humans. Vampire vision was too sharp not to notice the little artifacts of light that bent around him. Even if Afton held perfectly still.

In fact Afton's power was so worthless that Aro was ready to dismiss him right off the bat—before the experiment was even finished. But to Aro's supreme chagrin, Chelsea took a liking to him rather quickly. Not two days after his immortalization, she begged Aro to let him stay so she could court him. And so Aro, despite his reluctance to entertain useless members, allowed the boy to stay.

Chelsea after all, got  _whatever_ she wanted. Her role in the Volturi was too crucial to allow her to become disaffected.

But the other eight vampires were a resounding success. Aro called them into the turret room, one at a time to test their powers on criminals, the same way he and Carlisle had once done. And was very impressed with the results.

Lomasi—a lean, sinewy fellow, with long, straight black hair, and skin the same color as Jacob's, though leached of life—was called in first. And while the emotional range he could manipulate was limited, he could do a lot within that range. He could incite a maddening rage in others. A rage that would cause them to lose all capacity for rational thinking. Something Aro thought might be useful in incapacitating the enemy in battle.

Mel was up next. Next to Lomasi's lean muscle, he was kind of scrawny. And his chalky skin and pale, curly brown hair, made him look a bit nervous and washed out.

But he could, with a single touch, steal a gift and give it to someone else. Something Aro thought would be especially useful if a powerful vampire were ever to commit a heinous crime. Then Aro would not have to mourn the loss of their gift. He could simply take it and give it to someone more worthy.

Zain came third. He was the most physically imposing. A wall of towering, thick muscle. With a shaved head. African features. And skin that still carried most of its former darkness, but like Lomasi's was leached of warmth, making it almost more dark grey than brown.

And he had a particularly useful defensive power. He could protect against the effects of physical gifts—including those that messed with your emotions. Though he was not immune to Jane's powers, which only created the illusion of pain in one's mind.

But Aro would take it.

Kalifa, the first of the females to be tested, was the same dusty dark as Zain. Though she wore hair in long, neat, dreadlocks. And was only half as tall.

When Aro called her in, she nearly blasted the entire turret room apart with the force of her gift. She clapped her hands together once, And the entire fortress shook from its foundations. A very useful gift.

Yvonne—another Swedish blonde—had somehow managed to make the turret room cold enough to make  _Aro_  shiver, which was impressive since vampires didn't usually get cold. And then she'd made it hot enough to singe his eyebrows—something Aro thought could be used to incinerate rouge vampires from a distance.

Chen—a lanky Chinese young man with short, untidy black hair—was the last of the men to be tested. He had to be able to see where he was going to teleport. But that appeared to be his only limitation. He could flit around the room, appearing and disappearing at random, with no required cool-down time between "jumps". And no discernable maximum distance, except for the limitations imposed by his line of sight. A power that would make his capture and destruction almost impossible.

And Ting—Chen's plucky younger sister—could lift enormous boulders with only her mind. And then drop them suddenly on her enemies. Which was delightful to witness. And very useful in combat.

Then Vera…

…Why, Aro was inclined to believe she had the most impressive power of them all.

Rather than having her test her gift on criminals, he'd asked Caius to be his guinea pig again. And though the white-haired vampire had been extremely reluctant, when he'd heard what Aro was suggesting, he immediately changed his tone.

"You think she may be able to restore my arm?" Caius said with an uncharacteristic lilt of hopefulness.

"I am not certain what the range of her abilities are yet," Aro confessed. "Eleazar only said that her gift was 'healing'. But we should at least give it a shot. If it is possible, wouldn't you like to have your right arm back?"

Caius nodded very enthusiastically, and offered Aro his left hand—knowing Aro would want to hold it so he could see his thoughts.

"Then let's get to it, shall we?" Aro suggested, happily taking his brother's offered appendage. "Vera?"

His gaze turned away from his brother then and landed on a familiar woman. I'd seen her once before, enmeshed in the crowd of vampires in the present. But now was the first time I was really noticing her as an individual, apart from the sea of equally gorgeous persons.

She wasn't anything exceptional to look at—as far as vampire women went. I mean, she was gorgeous, of course. But she was of average height, perhaps an inch or two taller than me. She wasn't flat and bony like Athenodora, or curvaceous like Rosalie or Heidi—a staid, middle ground. And, her ensemble wasn't very daring either. She wore a plain, long black dress—something a peasant girl might wear to a funeral—which ghosted just a hair's breadth above the chalky floor.

The only thing of note about Vera really was her hair. It was a deep brunette—the color of dark chocolate. And it fell perfectly straight to an astonishing length past her knees.

I spent a few moments, while Aro waited for her to turn, gawking at it. I knew lots of girls back in Forks who would  _kill_  for hair like that.

But she didn't turn to look at us right away. Her eyes, which were still crimson from her recent feed, were fixated longingly on the exit. And her mind was clearly elsewhere.

"Vera?" Aro addressed her again, raising his voice ever so slightly.

Vera's eyes finally flickered to meet his. "Yes, Master?"

"I want to see if you can heal Caius' arm. If you would please step forward?" He requested, beckoning her with a hooked, white finger.

Vera regarded Aro with a look of evident bewilderment. But she knew better than to question him. Instead, she floated forward silently, until she was only a few inches away from the pair of older vampires. And then patiently awaited further instruction.

"Now Caius, if you would please."

Aro gestured toward the empty robe sleeve gently fluttering in the breeze at his brother's side. And with that one simple movement, Caius understood. Using his teeth—since his left arm was occupied—he pulled back the inky black sleeve to bare his injury.

But when he did, I struggled not to scream. A short, jagged stump protruded from his shoulder. And unlike other amputees I'd seen, the injury did not appear to have gotten any better looking in the intervening years since it had been inflicted.

It wasn't openly oozing fluids. But that was about the only good thing that could be said about it.

My best guess was that a vampire had  _bitten_ off his arm. The edges of the injury were ragged with indentations that looked remarkably like teeth marks. And there was a familiar silvery sheen along edges—the same sheen the scar James had given me had. But there was one pretty crucial fact that cast doubt on that theory.

The bite marks weren't quite right. Instead of near-perfect crescents, there were deeper indents near where the canines were. Deeper indents that reminded more me of animal bites than any inflicted by humans or vampires. And I roiled with horror at the idea that there was something else out there—an animal of some kind, besides the werewolves in La Push—that had teeth strong enough to rip off the limb of a vampire.

_Was this what Aro had meant when he'd said a "Child of the Moon" was responsible? That there was some other kind of supernatural creature out there that could bite off vampire's arms?_

The prospect seemed too likely to be comforting. And, at once, I wondered what else about the supernatural world I didn't understand.

The world seemed full enough with werewolves and vampires. But if Hollywood had taught me anything, it was that either only one myth was true, or all of them were. So if there were vampires  _and_ werewolves, why should it surprise me that there was more?

While I struggled to take this in, Vera too, had a similar reaction to mine when she saw Caius' arm. She gasped in horrified disbelief.

But all it took was one icy glare from Caius. And her perfect, pouty lips snapped firmly shut.

"Now Vera," Aro instructed in a low, smooth voice. "I want you to reach out and touch Caius' injury."

Vera looked uncertainly at Caius for approval. And to my surprise, he gave it to her in the form of a curt nod.

Seeing this, Vera slowly extended her hand and splayed her fingers around the marred flesh of his stump. Then looked expectantly at Aro again, clear nervousness radiating from her body.

Aro stifled a chuckle at the sight. Nervous newborns were adorable.

"Now try to imagine his arm as whole again. Picture it in your mind," he instructed calmly.

Vera's dubious expression grew more profound for a moment. But unlike me, she wasn't inclined to question. Instead, she simply closed her eyes, and did as she was told. And while she concentrated, something happened.

But it wasn't what either Aro or I had been expecting.

Suddenly, Caius let out a bloodcurdling scream.

At the very moment her hand made contact with his skin, a shock of agony rippled through his arm. It was intense—almost as painful as the thirst in Carlisle's memories. But as the pain traveled upwards, we realized it wasn't without purpose. We felt Caius skin, muscles and bones stretching—which had to be the source of the pain. And though the sensation was sickening, it didn't take long to figure out what was going on.

Caius' arm was slowly growing back.

As Caius screamed, Vera almost pulled back, worried she was doing something wrong.

But Aro shouted at her, "No! Keep going! It's working!"

That seemed to rivet her in place.

And after a moment, she was glad she had listened. Because it was then that we started to see the fruit of her labors. The muscles grew out of Caius' stump first, stretching and pulling like a strange, meat tentacle until they approximated the shape of a fully-grown hand. Then his skin flowed over the muscle next, creating a flawless marble exterior. Then there was a sickening  _pop_  as his bones finished growing back.

And then the pain was gone as suddenly as it came.

Caius stopped howling then. And Vera, seeing that Caius had recovered his senses, slowly retracted her hand from his fully-grown arm. Then she looked up at Aro with eyes seeking approval.

And Aro gladly gave it to her. "Miraculous!" he cried, delighted, staring raptly at Caius' new right arm.

Vera had healed him. Completely.

Caius, who was still struggling to process what was happening, twisted his new arm around experimentally. And as he did so, his snowy eyebrows rose higher and higher in wonderment.

"You did it," he whispered in disbelief, clenching and unclenching his new fingers. "My arm… it has returned!"

 _So that was why Caius had his arm in the present,_ I realized.  _Incredible._

…

"It has been a month since we began this experiment. So tell me, dearest Carlisle, how are our dear brothers and sisters doing?" Aro asked.

They were convened again in the grey-stone room in the catacombs—the room filled with cots. And Aro was eager to discuss the progress of their experiment.

"Not as well as I had hoped," Carlisle admitted, averting his eyes in obvious self-dissatisfaction.

I felt Aro's eyes widen incredulously at Carlisle's confession. He hadn't expected Carlisle to admit this so early. And suddenly he was very curious to know what had happened.

"May I see?" Aro asked, already reaching for one of Carlisle's hands.

Carlisle didn't look too eager to share what he had discovered. But he also displayed absolutely no resistance to Aro's encroaching hand. So Aro decided to go ahead and make contact. And as his fingers entwined with Carlisle's, I watched, dazzled, as Carlisle's vivid memories of the past month danced before our eyes.

It was just as disorienting as always. But while we looked over his recent memories, one recurring event stood out from the rest. Over and over again, we saw images of all twelve of Carlisle's test subjects violently vomiting up the animal blood he had offered them.

As we perused his memories, we learned that it did not matter which animal species the blood had come from. Nor the apparent intensity of the subject's thirst. Carlisle had tested every possible variable in an effort to find something that Carmen, Didyme and the newborns could swallow. But thus far, he'd had no success.

Not a single vampire had been able to choke down more than a few spoonfuls of the foul substance.

"Fascinating," Aro breathed in awe.

He gradually released Carlisle's hand. Then floated back slowly.

"I understand that they must not appreciate the taste but…" he trailed off.

"That is their only option to satisfy their thirst," Carlisle finished for him. "I know," he conceded with a grave shake of his head. "It is distressing."

 _Yes, it most certainly is,_  Aro thought.

He was astonished that even with no other choice, the vampires under Carlisle's care would react so negatively to animal blood—the only fluid which might alleviate some of their pain. He had been so sure starvation was the secret to Carlisle's success. But perhaps he was wrong.

 _Or perhaps,_ I thought with a shiver,  _their starvation is simply not yet severe enough?_

It had only been a month, after all. And in both instances—right after his transformation, and after the "incident"—Carlisle had waited  _four_  months before he had begun hunting animals.

"And what do you make of it?" Aro prodded gently, oblivious to my thoughts.

Carlisle frowned miserably. "I am not sure."

"Do you think the two substances—human blood and animal blood—are incompatible?" Aro prompted.

Carlisle shook his head. "No. The substances are not physically incompatible. I, myself have proven that they are not," he explained, referencing the incident that had restored his strength. "Rather, it seems that our kind cannot get past the awful taste of animal blood when their hunger is not yet severe enough."

 _So Carlisle agreed with me,_ I thought.

Aro blinked in genuine surprise. "So you  _do_ think it is starvation that allows your diet."

Carlisle shrugged. "I am not sure I would put it that way…"

Aro fought to urge to roll his eyes.  _There is no use in sugar-coating the truth, Carlisle._

"My… abilities also appear to play a greater role than I previously thought," Carlisle explained a bit reluctantly. "I knew ever since I came here that I have been using them to assist with my thirst. But I did not realize that for some time I have been using my powers to modify the taste of animal blood as well. To make it slightly more palatable."

Aro arched an eyebrow at this. "Oh?"

"So, I was wondering if, perhaps, I could add a new layer to this experiment?" Carlisle asked with a certain hesitancy that surprised me. I wasn't used to him sounding so unsure. Especially about things pertaining to his humane diet.

"You wish to use your powers to help the others handle your diet?" Aro guessed.

"Not all of them," Carlisle clarified. "There would need to be a control. I was thinking I would only touch half—"

"A third," Aro cut in, haggling the number down.

"Four subjects, then," Carlisle agreed without argument. "I will test my powers on four subjects. And see if it helps."

Aro regarded his friend curiously. "And whom will you pick?"

He obviously was worried that Carlisle might pick the wrong people—people he cared about a bit more than the others—to test his frightening powers on. But Carlisle had already thought of this. And come up with a brilliant way to sidestep the issue altogether.

He smiled. "Whoever volunteers first."

…

"Carlisle, it has been two months now, what is the status of our experiment?" Aro asked.

Carlisle sighed heavily. "Not good."

That piqued Aro's interest. "What is the matter?"

"Didyme, Carmen, Chen and Ting—the ones who volunteered to let me use my powers to help them with their thirst—appear to be in less pain than the others. But beyond that, I have not made any positive progress," Carlisle admitted with a solemn shake of his head.

"I have given them every type of animal blood Italy has to offer and… not a single test subject has shown any signs of reduced thirst," he lamented.

Aro quirked an eyebrow at this. "Meaning?"

"Almost all of them drink up whatever I give them eagerly now, despite the taste," Carlisle rushed to say, to clear up any misconceptions. "I believe Carmen, Heinrich and Afton are the only exceptions—they are somewhat more reluctant. But all of the subjects are irritable and weak. And when they use their powers, the situation is only aggravated further."

Carlisle's eyes desperately searched Aro's. He wanted to know if Aro had any clue as to why such results were manifesting themselves.

Aro clasped his hands together. "Ah yes, I had noticed that," he responded with a gentle sigh. "Vera is doing particularly poorly with the drain her powers have exerted on her."

Aro gave Carlisle a disapproving stare. He was upset that Carlisle was causing the girl suffering.

Carlisle, witnessing Aro's malcontent, gulped nervously. "You are right. Vera is probably hurting the most," he admitted, looking troubled. "When you asked her to restore the arm that Caius lost to a Child of the Moon, I did not believe she could do it," he confessed, still sounding shocked.

And I couldn't agree more _._ That Vera's abilities allowed her to regrow an entire missing appendage from only a jagged stub was a wonder one had to witness to believe.

"Although it seems to have taken quite the toll on her system," Carlisle related sadly.

And that it had. Aro remembered all too clearly finding Vera collapsed on the floor in the catacombs only a few hours after she'd restored Caius' arms. And when he'd helped her back onto her feet, he'd been astonished to note that she already had pitch-black eyes, even though most of the other newborns in the experiment hadn't even progressed to a dark red yet.

It was disturbing. And it made Aro reluctant to ask Vera to heal anything else. At least, while she was still under Carlisle's care.

Carlisle frowned, before he told us more. "I do not understand why Vera's eyes have not turned golden yet. Since she restored Caius' arm, she started drinking at least twice as much as the others. And I spend almost all my evenings hunting now to keep up with her thirst. But whatever nutrients animal blood have… they do not appear to be enough for her."

 _That was the understatement of the century,_ Aro thought.

"And the others?" Aro asked.

"Carmen is doing relatively well, since she has no powers. And both Heinrich and Afton are alright, since their powers are mental, rather than physical," Carlisle responded with relative optimism. "But the rest, like Vera, have mostly physical gifts. And of course, as you know, those with physical gifts need to feed more often than the rest of us. Especially when they are using their gifts so frequently for your own experiments."

Aro nodded placidly. This wasn't anything new to him.

But I was floored by this information.  _Vampires with physical gifts got thirstier than others did? Their powers had a physical cost?_

From a physics point of view it made sense. Energy couldn't be created or destroyed, only changed.

But from an emotional perspective, I was devastated. That meant that every time Jasper used his power, he was making himself hungrier.

And while abstaining from using her powers might be an option available to Vera, even if he had wanted to, it wasn't like Jasper could just stop using his powers altogether. Part of his power—the part that felt the emotions of the people around him—couldn't be turned off.

So, no matter what, he was stuck with the side-effects that came with being a vampire with physical powers on a diet of animal blood. And after having seen through Aro's memories what that did to Vera—making her so weak that she lost her balance—I suddenly felt very worried for Jasper.

Vera's collapse reminded me too much of what had happened to Carlisle. How he had almost died.

"Your sister seems to be doing the best out of all those with physical powers," Carlisle announced suddenly to placate Aro.

His words jolted me.  _Aro's sister has a physical power?_

But Carlisle frustratingly refused to elaborate—on that, at least. And Aro's thoughts weren't very helpful either.

…

"Month four is upon us," Aro said brightly, as he floated into the grey-stoned rooms where the experiments were being conducted. "I trust you have news?"

Carlisle smiled then—which Aro thought meant he had finally had some positive results. But it was strained action. Almost painful looking. And that immediately made Aro suspicious.

"What has happened, Carlisle?"

"Well, there is  _some_  good news," Carlisle began, tentatively. "I have become better at eliminating thirst in others as it happens. Using my gifts of course."

Carlisle paused for a moment to survey Aro's reaction. I couldn't see it from my vantage point, but the disappointment I  _felt_  radiating in Aro's body was enough to give me an idea. Carlisle swallowed, and continued.

"Didyme is quite comfortable now," he felt the need to point out. "As are the others I am assisting."

"I am glad Didyme is doing well," Aro acknowledged. "However, I am doubly relieved that she is not pregnant at the time. I heard rumors that Vera…"

Carlisle immediately dipped his head, guilt etching his features. And Aro, trailed off, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

"So it is true then?" Aro asked. "That the girl lost the child that was within her?"

Carlisle continued to stare at the flagstones beneath his feet. "Yes," he mumbled. "I was not sure what to expect—we were not even aware that there was a child within her when she was changed. It was too early to know…"

Carlisle choked on his words. And the guilt he felt for allowing a pregnant woman into his dangerous experiments was palpable.

But I was too busy being shocked to feel any pity for him or the vampire woman. _Vera had been pregnant when she was turned?_  That was new.

And my shock only increased as Carlisle went on.

"The child, though immortalized along with her, was not frozen developmentally. It still seemed to be growing. At least until…"

Carlisle brushed his fingers delicately across Aro's wrist for a fraction of a second. A horrid image of a tiny, pale, dead embryo soaked in venom flashed across our vision, followed by another of Vera tearlessly sobbing. Then Carlisle pulled away, making the image disappear. And he winced, obviously disturbed.

Aro felt a bit unsettled himself. But he'd seen much worse. So the image of Vera's dead offspring—as traumatizing as it was to me—didn't bother him as much as I thought it would. At least not  _emotionally._ It bothered him for other reasons.

"Do you believe that the child might have survived—grown to be healthy, hospitable and happy like Valentina—if Vera had been fed human blood?"

Carlisle made a face. But he wasn't a liar.

"I think it is highly possible," he admitted with great reluctance. "Didyme—who we know is  _capable_ of producing children—has not shown any indications of retaining her fertility since beginning the experiment. And neither have the others. Which leads me to believe that my diet has made them all…  _barren._ "

Carlisle flinched. Then decided to elaborate on his thinking.

"Normally, a female vampire's scent  _changes_  ever so slightly from time to time, to indicate their fecundity. But since Didyme adopted my diet her scent has been… well…  _stagnant._ "

Aro nodded. He'd noticed this.

But then, seeing how forlorn Carlisle's expression was, Aro decided the conversation needed to take a different turn.

"You should not chastise yourself so harshly, Carlisle," he said in a soothing tone. "Vera herself was unaware of the child. So even  _I_ was unaware until very recently. And if I had known before, I would have insisted that she wait to deliver the child before transformation. Never before have I dealt with one who was changed  _whilst_ carrying."

Carlisle nodded. But his sadness didn't abate.

"May I continue to see if I can prove my diet is sustainable?" he asked a little hesitantly.

He was obviously worried that Aro would say no—especially in light of this new development. And Aro would later regret that he hadn't.

But for the moment, Aro was content. He  _had_ promised Carlisle at least a year. And so it was only fair to give him the full-chance to prove himself.

"You may," Aro conceded, with a short nod. "However, I will be visiting you as often as occasion permits to check up on your progress," he informed Carlisle.

"I will not disappoint you," Carlisle promised.

Aro made to leave the grey-stoned room then. But just before he left, he spun on his heel to give Carlisle a lingering, deeply incredulous look.

"We shall see…"

…

Aro kept his promise to keep a close eye on the experiment from then on. He came by nearly every day to make sure no other alarming signs were manifesting themselves. But for a while things mostly stayed the same.

Didyme, Chen, Ting, and Carmen were hardly disturbed by their pain anymore. Carlisle had planted an elaborate alteration on their minds that filtered the sensate perception of their thirst almost immediately. But though they didn't  _display_ the same rabid behaviors as the rest—behaviors that had forced the guard to imprison them in the catacombs to keep them from seeking out human blood—all twelve subjects suffered the same physical effects.

Their strength was severely weakened—Aro had all of the test subjects spar briefly with his guard to compare their strengths. And the results had not been promising. Many complained of various muscle aches and pains. Even when going about relatively non-strenuous activities. Their skin was greenish. And the dark circles underneath their eyes were prominent almost all the time.

But most incriminating of all, those with physical powers—which was everyone besides Afton, Heinrich, and Carmen—had difficulties keeping their eyes golden. Their bodies burned through the paltry nutrition animal blood offered quickly, necessitating weekly, and in some cases—like Vera— _daily_ feeding.

And it irritated Aro to see the girl who had already done so much for his coven—who had given Caius his arm back—be in so much pain.

…

Month six of the experiment was when it all went to hell. I honestly wasn't sure why I had expected to see anything different. All along modern day Aro had been hinting through our connection that something like this was going to happen. That the side effects of drinking animal blood really were quite dire. Especially for those with physical powers.

But I had been wholly unprepared to watch half of the test subjects suddenly drop dead one afternoon. To watch their eyes fade from golden to black almost instantly after they were fed. Then see them faint suddenly, one after another, in the moist stone room that was the hub of Carlisle's experiments. And never get up again.

And I was even more unprepared for Aro's reaction.

_Chen. Ting. Kalifa. Yvonne. Zain. Mel._

_Dead. All of them._

_Collapsed, just like Carlisle. Only this time, I was too late to save them._

After a moment of unthinking panic, Aro touched each of the unmoving vampires on the cheek to determine that the life was well and truly gone from each of them. Then, once he was sure there was no hope of saving them, he asked a handful of guards to drop off their limp, lifeless bodies in the turret room to be given a proper send-off later.

And once that was taken care of, Aro rounded on Carlisle.

"Carlisle!" he roared.

"I am so, so sorry, Aro," Carlisle began apologizing immediately. "I had no clue this was going to happen! They seemed fine this morning!"

"This experiment ends now!" Aro bellowed imperiously.

And to his credit, Carlisle didn't protest. "Of course. Right away."

"Thank the heavens you are alive, Didyme," Aro praised, running up to where she was sitting on her cot and enveloping her in a crushing embrace. "But I cannot have you be a part of this any longer," he told her without any room for argument. "It is too dangerous."

"You are going to feed me human blood?" Didyme rasped, something akin to hope gleaming in her obsidian eyes.

I was astonished at how  _dry_  her voice sounded. And how very eager she seemed to do that, despite her unease around the topic earlier. But perhaps, after having gained first-hand experience with how awful the alternatives were, her slight discomfort with drinking human blood had vanished.

"Yes. I will grab the nearest human I can find," Aro assured her, giving her shoulder an affectionate pat.

"We have gone through so many secretaries this year," Didyme choked out, a wry smile playing at the edge of her lips.

Aro mimicked her expression for a moment. It was strange how similar the two of them were. "I am willing to part with a few more, for your sake. And, Vera's," he told her, to alleviate any concerns. Then he gestured sharply toward the room's exit. "Please, come with me. And quickly!"

Didyme hobbled to her feet, swaying slightly as she stood. And while the other remaining vampires scrambled up from their cots after her, Carlisle rushed to offer another apology. "Aro, I am so sorry. If I had known…"

Aro held up a hand to cut him off. "Save your excuses, Carlisle." Aro snapped. He then, deciding Didyme was in no condition to walk, hauled her up into his arms, and started sauntering purposefully towards the door. "My sister and I are leaving."

…

Once again, Aro edited out the actual feeding—for which I was immensely grateful. Though, when the memory faded out from black again, I realized that this time, it hadn't been a hapless pair of secretaries that Aro had fed to Didyme and Vera.

Instead, Heidi had made a timely return. And Aro himself, along with all the remaining members of Carlisle's experiment, had fed on the party of humans she had brought back. And they' kept on drinking until every living vampire in the castle, besides Carlisle, was satisfied completely.

When Aro emerged from the turret room, an hour later, he still had not spoken to Carlisle since his outburst in the catacombs. And he was already trying to come up with an apology for his harsh words.

Although Aro was furious with the outcome of Carlisle's experiments—so many potent gifts, lost—he had to admit that he was partially to blame. He had known there were risks inherent in the experiment, after all. And yet, he had pig-headedly gone forward with them anyway. All to prove a point. So it wasn't fair to take out all of his anger on Carlisle.

And besides, Aro was eager to preserve the friendship the two men had developed in the past two decades. He hated the idea that Carlisle might think ill of him because of a single moment of tactlessness.

It would not do well to approach him now, however. Aro had only just barely finished his meal. The scent of death was still fresh in the fibers of his clothes. His lips were stained a brilliant red. And his cheeks were flushed with the evidence of his recent feeding.

And all of these would only add to Carlisle's sorrow.

So, Aro moved quickly out of the turret room, and began to make his way towards his chambers. He planned to draw a bath to rid himself of the scent clinging to my skin, and any other residual "artifacts" before he approached Carlisle again.

However, it seemed fate had a different plan. When Aro passed through the secret door in the wall, he nearly bumped directly into Carlisle.

Aro halted abruptly in his tracks. "Pardon me," he said, before sidestepping the man and resuming his movement.

A wash of embarrassment coursed through Aro. Of all the times he had to run into the man… But just before he could finish crossing the hallway, something tugged at one of his sleeves. And Aro looked back to find Carlisle holding the edge of his robes, and looking at him with, wide, sad eyes.

Aro's stomach dropped.  _Oh no._

Carlisle gulped when he saw what Aro had been trying to hide from him—all the glaring evidences of his recent feeding. Then he closed his eyes and choked out: "Are they... are they doing well?" He asked, while shuddering. It was torturous to watch. "Didyme, Vera are they—"

Aro interrupted him. "Yes. They have recovered their strength. You need not worry for them any longer."

Carlisle said nothing in response to Aro's consolation. Instead he turned away from Aro's gaze and looked despairingly upward. I wondered if he was asking the higher powers of the universe why they would be so cruel as to create a species that required the blood of human beings to survive.

It was a good question.

But I wasn't sure any of us were ever going to get a satisfactory answer.

"Carlisle, please do not despair," Aro beseeched him.

"I am just so  _disappointed_ in myself. Even with my assistance, those with physical powers could not abide living with… insufficient nutrition."

Aro's eyebrows rose at this subtle, but profound confession. "You admit that it is insufficient, then?" he probed enthusiastically.

 _Could Carlisle really be conceding the truth?_ Aro hoped. Maybe not everything that came of the experiment had to be bad. _Is this the day he decides to join the feast? I do believe Heidi brought extras today…_

Upon seeing Aro's disconcertingly excited expression, Carlisle held up a forbidding hand. A hand that silently affirmed that his recent discovery, regrettably, did not apply to himself.

"For those with physical gifts," he clarified.

Aro's face fell.

"I believe that the evidence speaks for itself rather well," Carlisle explained logically, referencing the six dead whose ashes were smoking in the turret room right now. "And I am not foolish enough to contradict it. Even though I do not like it."

"Yes, that would be foolish," Aro said coldly.

Carlisle nodded, then extended his hand towards Aro. It was a silent offering for Aro witness what he had learned for himself. And Aro took it.

Carlisle elicited a small gasp as Aro's soft fingers curled tightly around his. But Aro only held Carlisle's hand for a moment. Then he let go and pressed his hands together in front of his chest.

"You should not deny that your diet affects you negatively as well _,_ " Aro said.

Carlisle flashed Aro a dark look. "I am fine."

Aro shook his head. "You and I both know that is not true."

"Will you at least give  _me_  six more months to prove myself to you?" Carlisle begged.

But Aro scoffed. "What is there to prove? I have seen enough. And you said yourself that animal blood was insufficient."

"I know... and I  _am_  glad to hear that your sister and the others are doing better, but..." Carlisle gazed dejectedly at the floor, and trailed off, unable to label the source of his misery.

"It still troubles you," Aro observed softly.

"Yes," he sighed heavily. "So many deaths... And for what?" His voice cracked with desperate emotion. "A pleasant taste and marginally improved strength?" he spat in bewildered disdain.

"The differences in our strengths are hardly marginal..." Aro countered as delicately as he could manage. "Two weeks ago, while measuring your strength against those who drink human blood, Jane wiped the floor with you... with  _one arm_. And she did not even have to resort to using her gift."

Carlisle grimaced at the unpleasant memory. Their "sparring" had been extremely brief.

"Although she may be immortal, she is barely thirteen, Carlisle," Aro added. "And thirteen-year-old little girls should not be able to physically best adult men."

"I know, Aro. I know," Carlisle granted. He raised two hands in a defensive gesture. "I simply do not understand it yet. But I will get to the bottom of this discrepancy of strength, I swear it," he promised. "Just please, give _me_  the full year you promised."

Aro nodded curtly. "Very well. I will allow  _you_  to stay for another six months on animal blood, since you do not appear to be in immediate danger. But during that time, see that you do get to the bottom of this."

"Yes, of course," Carlisle agreed instantly. Then his face suffused with gratitude. "Thank you."

…

"Carlisle, your six months are up. Have you discovered why those who drink animals have such a different color of eyes?" Aro inquired at the end of the period he had allotted Carlisle to prove his diet was sustainable.

Carlisle sighed. This day had come all too quickly for him. "I cannot say for certain what is going on. But as I was studying, I did come up with one theory…"

"Let's hear it," Aro encouraged eagerly, gesturing for him to continue.

"Do you know what color human blood is when it is fresh from the vein, healthy and alive?" He asked.

I was somewhat taken aback by the inquiry.  _What? Did he think Aro was, stupid? He's a vampire for crying out loud! Of course he knows what color human blood is!_

"Red, of course," Aro responded, with an incredulous frown. "Or are you looking for a more in depth description of the hue? I see the color on a regular basis, you know."

Aro smirked devilishly.

But Carlisle, who was used to it by now, ignored him. And instead, he continued in his baffling interrogation.

"And are not your eyes the same color when you feed?" he questioned further.

"…Yes..." Aro answered slowly. He still wasn't sure where Carlisle was going with this.

But I thought I might be starting to catch on.  _Was he suggesting what I thought he was?_

"So might we suppose then, that your eyes are revealing what is in your system, correct?" Carlisle asked.

"I suppose we can make that conclusion, yes," Aro replied hesitantly. "My eyes are bright red right after a good meal. But then as time passes the blood is used up, leaving my eyes vacant—black."

"…Right, so then… why are my eyes and his eyes yellow? Is not animal blood red as well?" Carlisle asked.

Aro blinked a few times to convey his surprise. "…That was why I asked you. I do not understand it."

Carlisle calmly walked over to the other side of the grey-stoned room and picked up an ornate silver tray off one of the abandoned wrought-iron cots. Atop the tray sat two small glass jars stoppered with corks. And the jars were filled with two different, unidentified liquids.

Without a word of explanation, Carlisle began walking back towards us with the tray in hand.

As he drew closer I noticed that one of the jars was filled with a watery, pale yellow substance that emitted a faint, unfamiliar odor. And the other jar contained was filled with a comparatively viscous, dark red liquid. It too, only released the barest fragrance through the thick glass. But through Aro's keen nose, I immediately recognized the scent as human blood.

When Carlisle got close enough, he suddenly thrust the silver tray under Aro's nose.

"Blood does turn yellow sometimes…" Carlisle started to say.

He paused to lift the container filled with the slightly smelly, pale yellow liquid. Then he slowly placed it in Aro's hands so that he could view it more closely.

"…when it breaks apart, and decomposes into waste products," Carlisle finished.

He glanced towards the stoppered glass in Aro's hands. And I guessed that meant the perplexing liquid we now held was the decomposed blood of which he spoke.

"Waste products?" Aro asked, bewildered.

It had been a long time since Aro was human. So he wasn't sure what Carlisle was referring to.

"Ah yes, that is urine, or piss, if you prefer," He explained politely with a gentle smile.

Aro quickly handed the container back to Carlisle. He was no longer interested in being in such close proximity with such a gross substance.

"Ah… I see."

Carlisle seemed oblivious to Aro's disgust. He settled the container of human waste against the silver tray once more. And the glass clinked against the shiny metal surface.

"Urine's characteristic color is caused by the broken down proteins of dead blood," Carlisle continued. "And with its similarity in color to my own eyes, and because of some of the unsatisfactory results we've seen in my test subjects, I began to wonder if perhaps that is what we are seeing—decomposing blood—rather than healthy red blood," he finished logically.

It stunned us both that Carlisle had come to such a conclusion. It made perfect sense. And yet, it also cast a disparaging light on his diet—something we had not expected. Aro and I had assumed Carlisle would attempt to rationalize the varying color in his eyes as a good sign, not as an indication of poor health.

But maybe we shouldn't have presumed that. Because, while Carlisle often personally neglected to place his "blessings" under scrutiny, he was not one to dispute the suffering of others when it lied right before his eyes.

And for that reason alone, Aro was willing to assert that this experiment had been a good idea.

"Fascinating…" Aro breathed.

Carlisle calmly took the ornate tray in his hands back over the bedside table and set it down. He returned to Aro's side immediately.

"The only flaw I see with that theory, is that I cannot fathom  _why_  animal blood would decompose in the system like that before it is used up by the body."

Clearly, he was frustrated that the evidence was running afoul of his previous assumptions.

"It is clear that their bodies are not synthesizing the animal blood properly," he went on. "Instead of keeping it alive and healthy, as the system does with human blood, their bodies are breaking the animal blood down very rapidly—causing the yellow color. The breakdown also is causing their eyes to blacken completely within a week or two, whereas yours take at least a month and half, if not two months before your eyes even darken a shade after you had fed," he explained, lamenting.

Carlisle's intellectual mind was determined to accept the facts as they were, no matter how unpleasant. And this pleased Aro. But Aro could tell that the notion that abstinence from human blood was detrimental to himself and others was wearing heavily on Carlisle's soul.

"What I do not understand is the reason for the symptoms I have seen. Why should human blood be any better for the body than animal blood? Are they not fundamentally the same? Aside from taste?" Carlisle asked in mystified desperation.

Aro lifted two hands with palms outward to signify that Carlisle should not jump to conclusions. Animal blood and human blood might both be red, viscous liquids which carried oxygen and nutrients. But Aro sincerely doubted that there was much alike about them beyond that.

"My instinct would be to say that is not so," Aro countered. "The physical symptoms, say that much at least."

Judging by his skeptical expression, and his crossed arms, Carlisle seemed unconvinced. So Aro decided to elaborate.

"Compared to my guard, the test subjects were very weak; easily bested in terms of strength and endurance even by the least muscular members. Certainly animal blood gives our subjects enough strength to easily surpass a human, so long as they use their powers infrequently. But they would be utterly useless in a battle against other vampires," Aro announced. "As would you…"

Carlisle frowned at Aro's accurate observations. And Aro even sensed that Carlisle envied his strength. But he would not pursue it when came at the lofty cost of human sacrifice.

"The thirst also makes them irritable and prone to rapid mood swings," Aro continued before Carlisle could interrupt him. "The slightest sound will send their eyes frantically searching the room. And the scent of human blood renders them incapable of rational thought."

"Yes but—"

"We must also consider the deeper effects," Aro went on, interrupting him. "The dark circles and greenish skin we have observed. And the fact that all the female test subjects ceased their usual fertile processes."

Carlisle grimaced. Aro was right.

"...Yes, all of those things are is true..." Carlisle conceded hesitantly. "But, I simply do not understand it."

The room feel painfully silent as Carlisle wallowed in self-pity. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, and sighed in utter defeat.

"Hmmm. I have a theory for why animal blood is insufficient," Aro mused aloud.

Carlisle perked up. "You do?"

"Although, I do not know what  _particular_  components animal blood is lacking, I do know that the blood which gives a vampire their greatest strength is the blood they possessed as humans," Aro offered matter-of-factly.

"And how do you know this?" Carlisle inquired skeptically.

"Newborn vampires still possess their human blood in their tissues," Aro told him. "And when they are fed properly, they are at the strongest beings on earth for the first year it lingers in their bodies."

Carlisle blinked in shock. "Truly?"

"Yes. Although I can easily outsmart them in battle, in terms of pure strength, they could easily overwhelm me," Aro confessed.

Aro was unashamedly honest about his relatively inferior physical capacity. While it certainly was a disadvantage, newborns and Aro were not so unevenly matched as Carlisle and Aro were. With tact and subterfuge, Aro stood a sporting chance against them. But Carlisle did not.

"But this state is temporary. Eventually their human blood is used up, and they lose this strength, correct?" Carlisle questioned.

"Unfortunately, yes," Aro admitted. "But that strength can be restored for a time."

Carlisle, who was surprised to hear this, was immediately, and insatiably curious. "How?"

"There are some who possess blood which is… shall we say, written in a similar fashion to the blood we had as humans. Like a variation on the same tune, it is slightly different, but  _oh so close…"_ Aro explained.  _"_ We call those who possess this blood,  _cantanti_  or 'singers', because their blood seems to call to us, to sing to us an irresistible song like the sirens of ancient Greece," he went on. "The scent alone can drive even the most well-fed of vampires into insanity. And to taste the blood of a singer is like drinking pure ambrosia—the most delectable taste in the universe."

Aro licked his lips and elicited a delighted sigh.

Carlisle looked disturbed at the sight. But he swallowed and quickly shook off his disgust.

"…How often do you find… those with blood that sings to you?" he asked a little timidly.

Aro heaved another deep sigh, this one sorrowful, rather than satisfied. "Regrettably, it varies from vampire to vampire. I suppose some types of blood are more common than others. Demetri seems to find one who sings to him every other year. And I have felt the pleasure many times through my gift. But I have never had the privilege myself."

Two blonde eyebrows nearly lifted off of Carlisle's forehead. "Never? But you are…"

"Yes, I am aware that I am ancient," Aro dismissed the obvious deduction with a slight scowl. "But even in my three thousand years of existence, I have not found a single one whose blood has appealed to me in that manner. And I am beginning to think that whatever sort of blood I possessed as a human is now extinct."

Aro reached out his arms and grasped longingly at the air, before slowly loosening his fists, and dropping his hands resignedly at his sides. I guessed it was a visual expression of how ripped-off Aro felt. That he'd been cheated by fate, or something.

Carlisle, however, ignored Aro's bereavement. "You said this blood—the blood of 'singers'—is… enticing. Do you have any idea why?" he asked, evidently confused.

"Do you presume our bodies to invent these urges randomly?" Aro demanded disbelievingly.

_Certainly Carlisle cannot suppose that our bloodthirst is simply a curse designed to torment us? Certainly he understands that it is our body's way of letting us know what we need to survive, much as human hunger and thirst is to human bodies, right?_

The idea that vampire instincts were ultimately meaningless went against all logic.

"The blood of  _cantanti,_ which smells and tastes the most exquisite, gives us the most strength. Human blood which smells and tastes delicious, but does not sing to us gives us acceptable strength. Human blood which is less appealing than even that, gives us lesser strength," Aro said definitively.

He was hoping that Carlisle would catch the crucial pattern evident in his statements. And to Aro's delight, he did.

Carlisle's eyes widened in realization. "Then animal blood…"

"Yes. Animal blood smells and tastes disgusting. So logically it follows that it gives us barely any strength. Is that not what we have observed?"

"But why must this be so?" Carlisle cried out in despair.

He looked down at his body with a look of determination. It was as if he planned to radically change his physiology simply by force of thought.

"Our bodies were originally human bodies, Carlisle—human bodies designed to accommodate a very specific type of human blood. In our immortality, they have been adapted to be able to consume a wider variety. But that still does not change the fact that we are still, in some respects, human," Aro affirmed, gesturing to himself. "Animal blood is wholly incompatible with the design of our system."

The room fell into a heavy, stale silence after Aro's unwavering declaration of fact.

Carlisle said nothing for a very long time. And for the barest moment Aro was almost convinced that he had not heard him. But as soon as Aro parted his lips to speak, at last, Carlisle broke the silence.

"…You make a very compelling case, Aro," Carlisle breathed, in awe of himself for saying this. "I had hoped that this experiment would be an opportunity for me to persuade you to change your ways," he admitted with a rueful smile. "But with the outcomes we have seen, it seems I was mistaken."

Aro's eyebrows arched high on his forehead. He hadn't expected Carlisle to admit this. Ever.

"Do you want me to fetch you someone to drink then?" Aro offered enthusiastically. "Heidi brought extras this month."

Carlisle stiffened at Aro's casual mention of human slaughter. Then gave a polite, "No, thank you."

"Carlisle, certainly the evidence convinces you that drinking animal blood is unhealthy!" Aro contested sharply, fed-up with Carlisle's stubbornness.

 _Dammit Carlisle!_ Aro thought.  _Powerful vampires had_ _ **died**_ _to prove this!_

Carlisle exhaled. "Yes, it is quite ineffective in dispelling thirst, and providing full-strength. I see that now. But that does not change the fact that I refuse to kill humans," he insisted. "I am willing to pay the price, no matter how costly, to abstain from ending human life."

"Even if you die?" Aro inquired sourly.

Carlisle sighed. "Even then," he granted somewhat reluctantly. "I will continue to dine on animal blood. I refuse to kill humans."

Aro, who seemed to have an epiphany then, lowered his voice to a calm, feathery, whisper. "You needn't kill humans to partake of their blood. If damnation truly is your concern, I could… take the blow for you…" he suggested slowly.

Carlisle's blonde eyelashes fluttered, bewildered. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I could kill for you, so that those deaths were on my hands," Aro explained. "I would gladly bear the guilt for you, if there is any to be born, Carlisle," he added with the utmost sincerity, and a note of pleading.

Carlisle looked positively petrified by the suggestion that Aro would willingly take upon himself the scourge of damnation in his place. His golden eyes bulged. And his face somehow seemed even paler than before.

I felt heartened that Carlisle cared enough about Aro to loathe the notion letting Aro taint his soul for his sake. But according to Carlisle's belief system, Aro was already irredeemably condemned as long as he remained an unrepentant murderer. And since Aro had no intentions of changing, what was the harm in adding a few more strikes to his overflowing sin-tally?

 _I_ _s there something else I have overlooked?_  he wondered.

We watched a thick lump build up in Carlisle's throat. "No, Aro," he began, ducking his eyes away. "Although that is…  _generous_  of you, I could not accept such an arrangement."

He struggled to keep his tone polite. But the tiniest edge of sarcasm found its way into the word  _generous_  as it left his lips.

"Their deaths would still be indirectly my fault," Carlisle went on. "And I could not live with myself knowing that I caused innocent people to die," he explained with a miserable expression.

"They would perish at my hands anyway," Aro rationalized placidly, as though they were discussing something as mundane as the weather. "With few exceptions, all mortals who enter this castle will eventually be consumed. And none I will ever offer to kill for you, would have ever survived otherwise."

Carlisle made a discomfited expression. "Still…"

Aro sighed. "So you will not be persuaded then?"

"No," he declared, leaving no room for argument over the matter. "You may do as you wish," he granted with a weary expression. "But I will continue to drink the blood of beasts."

Aro opened his mouth to protest.

But Carlisle cut him off. "If that means I am no longer welcome…"

Aro sighed again. "I am afraid so."

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the end of part one. 4 more chapters. Those should all be released as per my usual schedule. But I may need to take a few months of hiatus while I work on part two. I'll keep y'all posted! And thanks so much for your continued support!

CHAPTER TEN: CONCLUSION

…

_I would do whatever it took to be a good person._

_A good vampire._

– Bella, Eclipse, Chapter 15

…

_So that was why Jasper struggled so much_ , I thought as the past slowly faded back into the present around me.  _Animal blood isn't even enough to keep vampires with physical powers alive. And if he didn't make so many "mistakes", he'd be dead. Like those six test subjects._

I shuddered.  _How awful._

While I internally reeled, I came back slowly into myself. But I had spent so much time experiencing the world through the bodies of two vampires—first Carlisle, and then Aro—that coming back to my mortal figure felt weird. The sudden decrease in sensory capabilities left me feeling numb and disoriented.

My human nose did little to capture the litany of scents permeating the turret room's stale air—the scents I'd captured in Aro's memories. My arms felt like limp spaghetti noodles in comparison with his lean, powerful biceps. And I had to blink to refocus on my modern surroundings. To adjust my human vision to the dim lighting here in underground Volterra.

As I took a moment to get my bearings, I realized the pale shafts of sunlight floating into the turret room had dimmed a few shades since our arrival. And I guessed that a few hours had passed since then.

And that fact, combined with what I saw next, only made me more nervous. As my eyes floated around the room, I noticed that Aro's guard still had the telltale dark red eyes and a light dusting of lavender beneath them that indicated thirst. But in addition to these visual cues, there were some behavioral cues now as well.

Every vampire in the room now twitched at every thump of my heart. And every so often one in the cloak-shrouded crowd flickered their wild, dim eyes in my direction, and licked their lips. Both clear signs that the Volturi were not happy I was making them wait for their meal.

I shuddered and forced myself to look away.  _Aro had promised to protect me, right?_

While I averted my eyes, Lucretia lifted her icy little hand out of mine. And I took a shaky step back from the eerily synchronized twins.

They were both tilting their heads to the side at precisely the same unnatural angle. And staring at me with an intensity that made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

I had a fairly good impression that the adorable duo was not considering me as a potential meal. After all, theirs were only eyes in the room which bore no obvious indication of hunger. But their unblinking, ruby gaze was still extremely unnerving.

Disturbed, I pried my eyes away from their unsettling stares. And I reached out to my displaced mental barrier. Slowly, I tried coaxing the shimmering red veil in my mind's eye across the room to where I stood. But as soon as I gave it a tiny nudge in the direction of my brain, it moved quickly and cooperatively back to me. Eager to be in its rightful place.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the intangible shield settled over my mind. It was my security blanket. And I was glad to have it back.

But as the unease of being cognitively exposed vanished, I realized that there was another problem. I pivoted on my heels, and faced Alice again.

She was still in very much the same spot she'd been in before, hovering behind me, between where Edward and Caius grappled. And when I whipped, around, she regarded me curiously.

"How could you let Jasper drink animal blood? How could you let him torture himself like that?" I practically screamed at her. "With his physical powers… it could kill him!"

Out of the corner of my eye I caught Aro's smile widening. And this perplexed me. Until I suddenly understood.

I had just admitted anger towards the idea of Jasper drinking animal blood. And by doing so, I had unwittingly divulged that I  _wanted_ Jasper to consume humans for his own health. That strangers' deaths were less important that keeping him alive.

I felt sick with myself. And most of all, I was shocked at how natural it seemed to suggest Jasper kill people to remedy his thirst.

But I was beginning to grudgingly acknowledge that I could no longer see animal-drinking and human-drinking in the same light as before.

Human death certainly still disturbed me. But knowing that it was the only feasible way for Jasper to stay healthy… Could it really be all  _that_ bad? Could it—

Alice thankfully cut off my thoughts. "Bella, do you really think I  _haven't_  tried to get him to stop?" she asked, honestly finding ignorance that thick hard to believe. "I tried almost  _every day_  to convince him to switch to human blood. His physical powers make a diet of animal blood very risky for him. Too risky for my liking. I mean, luckily his instincts are strong enough to compel him to drink human blood often enough. But still…"

She trailed off, sounding grim. And at once I was sure I understood.

"So, you were telling the truth then," I noted, not sure why I'd disbelieved her. "When you said Jasper doesn't like to hunt… people… because he feels the emotions of his victims?"

Alice, to my relief, didn't take offense knowing I didn't trust her right away. She simply nodded in acknowledgement. And looked, again, like she was about to cry.

The sight of venom welling up in her eyes, made my heart sink. And I forced myself to look away. I didn't want to gain too much sympathy for her too. I was already dangerously close to turning my back on every good moral I'd believed in. Dangerously close to agreeing with Aro.

After everything I'd seen…. Well, I mean, the evidence spoke for itself….

While I averted my gaze and waited for someone else to speak, I realized I was having a hard time understanding everything I had learned today. It was all too much to absorb at once. So I decided to try separate out what I had discovered into smaller, comprehensible chunks.

First, I understood beyond a shadow of a doubt that animal blood was unhealthy—which I surmised was the main conclusion Aro wanted me to draw. Well, that and its corollary: That only human blood could provide the nourishment that vampires needed to remain strong, fertile and capable of using their powers to their fullest potential.

And second, I knew that Aro wanted me to become a human-blood-drinking immortal myself. Both to uphold his sacred laws, and hopefully to use my powers in his organization. And he was willing to change me himself if necessary.

But there were still a lot of questions that hadn't been answered.

There were some smaller mysteries I'd picked up from Aro's memories. I was still desperate to know how Didyme and her son Tristan had died. What a "Child of the Moon" was, and how it had managed to bite off Caius' arm—at least that was what I assumed had happened. And if there were more things like that—more supernatural creatures that existed besides werewolves and vampires—that I didn't know about.

Though, those weren't my primary concern right now.

There were more important questions.

Like the reason Edward had done everything in his power to hide the side-effects of his diet from me. From hiding Carlisle's powers. To comparing animal blood to tofu. To forbidding Rosalie from ever explaining her full predicament as far as vampire childbirth went. And so on.

None of it made sense. If he didn't want me to become a vampire anyway—which I was certain of at this point—why entice me by making it look so easy for him? Why mitigate the obvious cons? Explaining any of what Aro had just shown me would have been a pretty effective turn-off.

Then there was Alice. I knew that she was on Aro's side. That, despite having faked it for several decades, she firmly agreed with his way of seeing things. And seemed to be coaxing me in that direction too. But there was so much about her I didn't understand.

_Why had Alice_ _**really** _ _been spying on Carlisle, if it wasn't just to ensure his health? And why hadn't she informed Aro about it beforehand? What was her_ _**true** _ _purpose in coming here? Did she really even care about Edward at all? Or had that—like so many other things—been just another clever ruse?_

I didn't get it. And being in the dark was starting to drive me nuts.

_Didn't Aro promise he was going to tell me everything?_

Seeing that no one else was intending to speak—in fact, all the dark red eyes in the room seemed to be fixed, expectantly on me—I decided to break the silence.

"Alice, do you know why Edward didn't want to tell me all this?" I asked her, since I figured Edward himself would never give me a straight answer.

Edward wriggled viciously in Caius' stranglehold—obviously trying to stop his sister from saying anything. But the hard white fingers fastened around his neck made it impossible for him to speak. And Alice wasn't about to be deterred by his pathetic struggles.

"Edward never wanted you to be one of us," she told me, with a soft sigh. "I don't even think he ever intended to fall in love—that sort of took him by surprise. But once he found out he couldn't live without you, he wanted to make sure he got to keep you as you were. Human. With a 'clean record'. And a soul."

Alice pursed her lips sourly. She obviously thought Edward's approach was stupid.

"I get that part," I said.

And that much was true. Carlisle had explained to me enough to understand that Edward was worried about my soul. And that made even more sense in light of what I had just learned—that killing humans as a vampire was the natural, and nigh-inevitable thing to do.

"But what I don't get," I continued. "Is why he thought lying to me about this would make me want to stay mortal. Wouldn't telling me something like 'oh, you don't want to be a vampire because we're always struggling not to kill people?' be more effective?"

That's how it seemed, to me anyway.

Alice rolled her eyes. "You think he didn't try to tell you that?" she asked, having a hard time believing it. "You think all of his attempts to show you that he was 'dangerous' weren't exactly that? That him going on, and  _on_  about how much your blood appealed to him wasn't meant to scare you off?"

I chewed nervously on my lower lip. Alice had a point. Edward  _had_ done all that. So maybe I was just a dunce. A stupid lamb who hadn't really been listening to the ramblings of her sick, masochistic lion.

"Okay, so I guess I wasn't paying the best of attention," I admitted, sheepishly rubbing my elbow. "But why lie then? If he was trying to scare me off anyway…"

Alice sighed, and then decided to explain. "Edward didn't tell you the truth for two reasons, Bella," she told me. "First, because he didn't want you to think badly of Carlisle. After all, knowing that he's risking our lives for his vision, and messing with our heads to keep our natural instincts from taking effect, kind of puts him in a bad light."

I nodded a little hesitantly. I still thought of Carlisle as a good person for his personal conviction. But he wasn't some pure-white saint anymore. There were shades of grey there. Especially in his experiment on the other newborns. And his continued attempts after that horrible failure to try and persuade others into sharing his life-threatening diet.

"And the second reason Edward didn't tell you the truth was because he didn't want you to be tempted," Alice finished, after giving me a moment.

"Tempted? To what?" I asked, not sure I understood.

"To become a vampire, but drink human blood," Alice clarified patiently. "That's why he had Rosalie lie to you. He was worried you might not think human life was too high a price to pay to have children."

"But I  _told_ him I didn't  _want_  kids!" I sputtered out, furiously. "So why would I kill for something that I don't even want?"

Alice shrugged. "I am not sure. Maybe he didn't really believe you when you said that," she offered as a possibility. "Or maybe he can't picture it himself—not wanting kids—when he's so jealous of Aro's little family."

_That_ was news to me. Edward was  _jealous_  of Aro and Sulpicia's family. Of their three children?

I looked at him to see if he would protest Alice's assessment. But the look on Edward's face was one of resigned acceptance. One that clearly said he thought she had hit the nail on the head.

I swallowed.  _I never knew he wanted children. Why didn't he tell me?_

"But the bottom line is," Alice went on. "He doesn't trust you."

I looked askance at Alice. "But you do?"

That seemed to be what she was implying anyway. But I wasn't sure I fully believed that either. There were still things she wasn't telling me too.

Though it seemed like forever ago when Alice had shared her thoughts with Aro, I swore I remembered the ancient vampire saying something about Alice sharing some "grave news" with him. And I also remembered her saying something about "visions" involving me. Two out of many things that had never been adequately explained.

"Of course," Alice answered brightly. "Why else would I tell you everything?"

She seemed to think the answer was self-evident. But I didn't agree.

"Why  _are_ you telling me all of this?" I decided to ask her and Aro both. "Wouldn't it be better if I was kept in the dark?"

"No." Aro and Alice both declared in unison.

All of the other vampires left in the room gaped at the two of them in shock. W _asn't it Aro's job to protect the vampire secret, not expose it willy-nilly_? their skeptical eyes said. Though, fearing the ancient vampire's wrath, they did not dare voice their dissenting thoughts aloud.

"Your power can be a great benefit to the vampire world," Alice said to allay the dark looks the rest of Volturi guard was sending her.

Aro nodded to convey his agreement. And then he flickered a glance over his shoulder at the crowd behind him, seeming to urge them to accept it as well.

I watched in awe as all thirty-or-so vampires visibly relaxed. And my appreciation for Aro suddenly increased tenfold. His influence over so many powerful beings was almost god-like. And it made me wonder what the secret was behind his command.

There had to be something…

_Could it be his invasive gift? A gift that can probe into their minds and rat out dissent?_

_Could it be centuries worth of wisdom?_ Aro had, after all, had a long time to hone his persuasive skills…

_Maybe it's the bonds of trust and solidarity Chelsea enforces on the guard? Could that compel them into such unwavering obedience?_

_Or perhaps it is something else?_ Chelsea's power, after all, did have its limits.

I was given no further time to ponder what other methods Aro might use to elicit such unwavering obedience, however. Because just then, Alice cut my thoughts short with a devastating statement.

"In fact," Alice went on boldly, "Your power may be the only way to protect against extinction, Bella."

My jaw slackened. "Extinction?!"

That was pretty severe. And I knew Alice wasn't the type to use words like that lightly.

"What do you mean?"

Alice sighed. "I mean exactly what I said. If the Volturi doesn't have your power, then all of us—all of vampirekind will die."

Aro nodded. He already knew this. This was the "grave news" Alice had shared earlier. And this must be the secret to his urgency. The reason he wanted to turn me himself so badly.

But Caius, who was also just being clued in, snapped.

"Alice!" he barked, shrill and demanding. "Why did you not inform us of this possibility immediately?!"

Alice snorted. "Because. You would have ruined it," she said flatly. "And we cannot afford for this to not work out. Too much is at stake."

Caius, though he still looked grumpy, seemed to concede that this was an acceptable excuse. He finally let go of Edward—returning him to Felix and Demetri. Then returned to settle back in his chair, allowing her to continue.

"What led to all this, exactly?" I asked frantically as Caius threw himself down crossly onto his throne. "What have you seen?"

"Well, it all started that summer, in 1948," Alice began. "I'm not sure whose decision triggered it—I can't see that. But I could see the effects. And they were  _devastating_."

I swallowed. I didn't like the sound of that. "How so?"

"Someone is planning on staging a huge battle," Alice told me gravely. "A battle that could spell the end for us."

My expression turned quizzical. "A battle? What kind of battle?"

"A confrontation in Seattle with an army of newborn vampires," Alice replied.

"An  _army_ of new vampires?" The concept was a horrifying as it was nonsensical. "But why would someone create a bunch of vampires to make an army? Why not use ones that are already here?"

"Aro told you in his memories that newborns are supposed to be stronger than the rest of us, as long as they drink human blood, right?" Alice queried.

He had. "Yes but…"

"So sometimes, when vampires want something from other vampires, like territory or power," Alice began, coaching me like I was a kindergartener, "They will turn a bunch of humans into vampires to use them as cannon fodder until their strength wanes."

My heart plummeted in my chest.  _That's cold. Practical. But so cold._

I gulped. "And then what do they do with them? When their extra strength goes away?"

I was pretty sure I wasn't going to like the answer.

"They kill them," Alice said flippantly. "Can't have too many vampires running around, after all. It would throw off the ecological balance. Too many predators. Not enough prey."

I blanched, but nodded. That was the truth after all. Even if there was no feeling in it. No heart at all. "But who would do something like that? Make newborns just to have them fight, and then kill them off when they were no longer useful?"

It seemed like such a dastardly thing to do. And I guess I was pulling a bit of a Carlisle and finding it hard to believe that anyone could be that callous. But if there was a lesson I was learning today, it was that reality was always more cruel, and unforgiving than you thought it could be.

"Oh plenty of people have done it before," Alice said, giving my concerns a dismissive wave. "The Volturi have outlawed it, because the fights themselves and the sudden uptick in murders to feed so many hungry mouths draws too much attention. But that doesn't stop people from trying it."

"In fact," Alice continued, "Jasper used to be part of a coven that sported a rather large newborn army at all times."

My eyed bugged out at this. " _Jasper_ was part of a  _newborn army?_ "

"I'll let him tell you the story, sometime," Alice promised.

But it was clear she didn't want to get into the tale now. And I didn't exactly blame her. The Volturi, with their dark red eyes, and pale lavender under-eye markings looked famished. And it simply wouldn't do to delay their incoming meal any longer than strictly necessary.

"Okay, so what you're saying is," I said, getting back to our original topic. "In 1948, you saw someone start planning this battle in Seattle with a newborn army."

Alice nodded. "Yes. Though I have no idea who is behind it. I'm not even sure  _why_ the newborns are going to be created. I just know that someone is planning to make a lot of them. And when they attack, it's going to be a full-scale disaster if you're not there."

"You need  _me_ to help you fight newborns?"

I wanted to laugh. It was the most preposterous thing I'd heard all day. And with all the ludicrous things I'd learned in the last hour or so that was saying a lot.

Alice didn't share my humor. "Yes," she said very seriously.

My forehead wrinkled in incomprehension. "Why?"

"Because your powers will help protect us," Alice said like it was obvious. "Your shield… is going to be very useful."

"My shield?" I asked.  _Is that what they were calling it?_  "But how would that help you?"

After all, my shield was kind of a personal thing. It only protected me.

"Aro thinks you may be able to use it to cover the minds of others," Alice explained matter-of factly. "Then you'll be able to protect all of us from mental attacks. Which will be helpful, because I'm fairly certain the enemy will have some gifts of their own."

"The newborns we're fighting are going to have super powers?"

I moaned.  _Great. Just great._

Alice, who mirrored my frustration nodded, before adding a caveat. "I can't see exactly  _what sort_ of powers our enemies have yet. And it won't be all of them, of course. One, maybe two, out of dozens. But whatever powers they  _do_ have, we'll have a lot better chance with you shielding us from them."

"I guess that makes sense…" I acquiesced hesitantly.

Though I wasn't sure I shared Aro's lofty estimation of my abilities.  _Could I really do something like that? Share my powers?_

"But you never did explain what you meant by extinction," I pointed out. "Do you really think that the entire vampire race is at stake if I do not join the Volturi?" I asked dubiously.

I was incredulous and terrified that Alice seemed to genuinely believe that my transformation into a vampire was vital in order to preserve the future of an entire species. Especially one as unbeatable and resilient as vampires.

"There is still a slim possibility that some of us survive the attack without you…" Alice admitted thoughtfully.

She poked her cheek with her index finger as she stared absently off into space. And her golden eyes waxed increasingly vacant, as though she was no longer looking at anything in this dimension. Instead, it looked like she was revisiting all the possible futures related to this topic in her mind.

For almost a few moments, Alice stared into the future. Then abruptly, she blinked and resumed speaking.

"But with your shielding power on our side, we can avoid a lot of deaths, and have a much higher chance at avoiding the exposure of the supernatural world," she explained, flashing a pained-looking smile.

"Exposure—why would a battle expose vampires?" I questioned disbelievingly.

I tried to search out any logical excuse. Anything that might throw disreputability on Alice's outlandish theory that I was some kind of "chosen savior" for the vampire race.

"I mean, the Volturi have fought lots of battles before…" I contributed pathetically.

But ultimately, my arms slumped weakly in defeat. No matter what I said, Alice always knew best.

"Not in the middle of a crowded urban center, which is where my predictions place it," Alice countered succinctly. "And if the battle gets dire, survival, not secrecy, will be the first thing on our minds."

I nodded gravely in understanding. Vampires might put on a pretense of civility when all was well. But it had become especially clear in this last few hours that they were fundamentally driven by potent, violent instincts. And they would react like any other animal if provoked.

_Which would mean…_

A jolt of pure horror shot through me as I put two and two together. And suddenly, I understood that the threat of exposure was very real. Alice had mentioned—and I had seen through Aro's eyes—that some of the Volturi had rather formidable gifts. So if the Volturi were to face off against a newborn army in Seattle, it could cause quite a scene. A scene that humans would not be inclined to forget.

"So then humans will discover that vampires exist…" I breathed in a terror-struck whisper.

Alice responded with a solemn nod.

"Then what… I still don't understand how that leads to the extinction part," I expressed with evident confusion. "What can humans possibly do against vampires? Bullets and knives are useless."

"You know that the only way we can die is if we're burnt to ash right?" Alice asked.

I responded by nodding quickly. And I shuddered, recalling what little I had seen of James' grisly death.

"And you are aware that humans have modern weapons which can create big fires, right?" she prodded further.

"Flamethrowers?" I asked incredulously.

I tried to imagine hordes of humans waving flamethrowers at an unstoppable force of charging, red-eyed vampires. But human aim was pretty horrible when it came to keeping up with vampire speed. So I was having a hard time picturing humans being very successful.

Alice rolled her eyes in exasperation and resolutely shook her head. "I was thinking more along the lines of explosives, like tactical missiles, or even nuclear bombs."

I was tempted to laugh. Those were such drastic measures.

Until I realized she was deadly serious.

"And those could  _definitely_ destroy us if we were hit head on," she explained with a somber expression.

A hasty glance over in Aro's direction confirmed that he too, was certain that he would be unable to survive a direct encounter with such explosions.

"If humanity were to learn of our existence, they would make their best attempts to wipe all of us off the face of the earth," Alice declared forebodingly.

"…But that's so extreme!" I protested vehemently. "Would they really launch missiles, nuclear or not, against their own nation? I mean, tons of innocent people would die!" I practically shrieked.

I was horrified by the very-real prospect of such widespread massacre. But also deeply skeptical that the human race was really idiotic enough to cause such devastation to their own people.

"That did not stop them in Japan," Alice reminded me with a distrustful wagging of her finger. "And those were their fellow humans caught up in a petty military conflict. Think of how callous they will be toward our destruction. Any collateral damage experienced on the way to our extinction will be completely justified in their eyes," she replied definitively. "People that are somewhat culturally distant are simply numbers to them—statistics. We are less than that. We are monsters. They will show us no mercy."

I stood back in horror.

Alice was right. The fear of the unknown, and the inability to accept that humans were not the highest link in the food chain would drive humanity insane. Certainly the governments of the world might initially be reluctant to fight in that manner. But given no other options, and increasing public terror, they would be forced to act, in a devastatingly destructive way.

I was pretty sure I looked like I was about to faint. But glancing to my right I noticed that all vampires standing behind Aro had the same petrified expression.

"And how might Isabella prevent this?" Aro inquired. He already knew of course—Alice had shown him. But he looked anxious to allay the fears of his guard.

"Few have gifts that are as potent and controllable as Bella's while they are yet human," Alice observed placidly. "Jane could cause a brief sharp sting in her victims. Alec could make people feel a little numb. And Vera could heal small bruises or cuts. But most of this was done involuntarily in the heat of the moment," she offered.

"But Bella's gift is constantly protecting her mind without her even being aware of it," Alice proceeded to say. "And she can also control it so well already," she sang with a happy smile. "When she becomes a vampire, her shielding abilities will only increase. And that will gives us an advantage we need in the battle to come. An advantage that will help us not fight conspicuously and betray our true natures."

Alice announced this last bit in an almost worshipful tone. And that struck an uncomfortable chord with me. It seemed fundamentally  _wrong_  somehow for someone who possessed a talent as miraculous and coveted as hers to express such awe for my powers. A shield seemed pitiful in comparison to  _seeing the future_.

"Ah, I see," Aro sighed in comprehension and relief.

Then, he rapidly spun across the stone floor in my direction. His expertly tailored robes swirled darkly around him. And a wide grin pulled apart his thin lips as he drew closer to me.

"I am thrilled by what we might see when you become one of us," he purred softly.

He ghosted the back of his frigid knuckles over my cheek. And bathed my face and neck in his cool, intoxicating breath.

I shivered under his touch. But not from fear.

No, absolutely not that.

Too quickly though, it was over. Aro's eyes widened in an unreadable expression. And then he flitted backwards to a safe distance.

My skin tingled hotly from the fleeting contact. And I was left breathless, flustered. But at least my mind hadn't been breached. I wasn't sure I could handle the embarrassment of letting Aro know how profoundly his touch affected me.

Especially when he was mated to someone else.

I dipped my head in shame. I needed to get a grip.

"So what happens now, Alice?" Aro asked, deferring to her expertise.

"Patience, Aro," Alice soothed. "Nothing happens until Bella makes her choice," she stipulated while crossing her arms forbiddingly. "She needs to decide of her own free will what she is going to do in light of this knowledge. We cannot afford to have you mess this up trying to force her hand."

Aro reluctantly nodded in understanding. Then he sailed effortlessly backwards a few steps, and regarded me with bright interest.

"So… I am a key part in protecting the vampire world from destruction?" I asked.

There was still so much that I didn't completely grasp. And I was still doubtful my abilities were awesome enough to become the savior Alice imagined.

"Why? What can I possibly do to help?" I implored in frustration.

_What on earth did Alice think I was going to do? It wasn't like my mental shield could repel something as devastatingly physical as nuclear bombs._

"That sounds so… so  _important_. I can't do anything like that, can I?"

"Of course you can, Bella. You're much more special than you realize," Alice supplied with a friendly thumbs up. "Something Edward never appreciated," she added in a distasteful grumble.

Edward responded by scowling even deeper than before. But otherwise made no comment.

"I look forward to us being sisters in this coven," she announced, gesturing to the room around us.

My face fell.  _Oh. Right._

"Don't look at me like that, Bella. They need me as much as they need you," she declared adamantly.

I blinked twice. "They do?"

Alice nodded. "Technological communication in the human world is getting incredibly advanced," she told me. "Our secret could go from completely protected to worldwide knowledge in the few minutes it takes to upload and watch a YouTube video."

I paled. That was the downside of living in the modern age, it seemed.

"Simply killing all the witnesses will not work anymore," she explained. "We will need to strike  _before_ the exposure happens, not after, and I—" she splayed a gloved hand over her chest, "—am the only one with powers that allow us to do that."

I swallowed thickly and gave a hesitant nod. Once again, Alice was right. Even Carlisle's power would be relatively useless if nearly everyone on the planet learned of the truth within mere minutes. The damage done would be irreversible, and devastating.

Especially if Alice's predictions of panic-induced nuclear fallout were anything to go off.

Clearly she believed it was her obligation to prevent a calamity of this scale from happening. But her explanation still failed to account for one thing. If the battle in Seattle was something she'd seen in 1948...

"Then why did you spend over sixty years messing around?" I asked in bewilderment. "Why waste your time with the Cullen's and go to all these lengths to pretend to care about human life when you obviously don't?"

I said this with a little more petulance and anger than I had originally intended. Probably because I still felt a little betrayed by her dishonesty.

Alice's admiring smile twisted into a disappointed pout. "I knew I needed to be part of Carlisle's coven to meet you. And I was hoping to recruit Edward too," she explained, looking a little guilty for the deception. "His power would help us a lot—we could know what the enemy was planning in real-time. But—" she shot Edward a disparaging glance, "—it doesn't look like that's going to happen."

"No," Edward growled out, low and fierce. "It's not. I'll never join you."

Alice pouted, put out by his refusal.

And I gasped. "So all this time… you were planning to take the two of us here, and try to get us to join?  _That's_ why you pretended to be a Cullen for so long?"

The feelings of betrayal that had waned somewhat in the last hour, came back in full force.  _All this time, all of our friendly interactions… All of that was nothing more than a recruitment ploy?_

"So you lied to me earlier?" I challenged. "About not joining the Cullens to spy on me?"

Alice made an exasperated noise. "I wasn't lying when I said I didn't  _originally_ join Carlisle's coven because of you, Bella," she clarified. "You didn't exist in 1948. So you weren't part of my visions yet."

"Then—"

Alice sighed and decided to explain. "All I saw was what would happen without you—our imminent destruction. It wasn't until forty years later, when you were born, that I began to see hope."

"Oh," I breathed in comprehension. "So at first, you just wanted Edward. But then, when you saw me coming…"

"…I decided to stay a little longer and try to collect you too, yes," Alice finished for me.

I shivered at her wording. I didn't like the idea of being  _collected._ But I nodded to show that I understood.

Well, at least that I understood most of it. There was one more thing…

"Why did you let Edward lie to me?" I asked Alice. "If you wanted me to join, how come you let him mislead me? Why didn't you tell me the truth earlier?"

Alice sighed. "We need you very badly, Bella," she said, with a note of desperation in her voice that made me uncomfortable. "All of this… everything I've done up to this point was in order to create the perfect scenario for you to find out the truth."

"The perfect scenario?" I repeated, not sure what she meant by that. "You mean, you tricked me too?"

"Bella, you have to understand what I have seen," she pleaded with me. "For forty years, there was no hope. No possible future where we might all live. Over and over again, I saw only the horrible destruction of not only our entire race, but of countless innocent human lives. The carnage was horrific... buildings and bodies burning in every direction..."

She trailed off, choking on her words as she recalled the grisly scenes of which she spoke. Her petite hands shook violently with the force of her terror. And her eyes were wide with the strongest fear I had ever seen.

Clearly, the mass-destruction she had witnessed in her vision scared the hell out of her. And I think I was beginning to understand what she was trying to say.

"Of course I had to do whatever was necessary to prevent that," Alice told me, still shaking. "So when you were born and I saw that first glimmer of hope—that first glimpse of a future where we might survive. Well, obviously I  _had_ to try to make it come true, didn't I?"

"Of course," I found myself agreeing instantly.

All of a sudden I didn't blame Alice for her deception anymore. Her reaction to her visions scared the hell out of  _me_.

Whatever she had seen, I wanted nothing to do with it. And she was just doing what was necessary to avoid that awful future at all costs. No matter how underhanded and self-serving her actions might appear.

"Keeping that destruction from happening… that's obviously most important," I added.

Alice nodded and kept going. "I let Edward keep from the truth until you were ready to hear it. Until you already wanted to be a vampire bad enough that what you learned today would not stop you."

Alice spoke with a resoluteness about that last bit that terrified me. And I had to stop and examine myself.  _Would the knowledge I had acquired today stop me?_  I wondered.

_Was I okay with being a murder, in light of what I had learned? Did Alice's insistence that I was needed for the greater good, really outweigh the awfulness of what I would become?_

It unnerved me that I couldn't definitively say no.  _Extinction_ was a pretty big deal.

"You really need me that badly?" I asked once again, just to be sure.

Alice's head bobbed enthusiastically. "Your contribution to the upcoming battle is  _vital_ ," she stressed. "With your shield protecting our minds, the whole guard can fight safely, and rationally against the newborns without exposing our existence."

I swallowed. "So you want me to join?" I choked out.

" _Yes_ ," Alice breathed, visibly excited. " _Please,_  Bella?" she begged me.

I was astonished to watch as she clasped her hands together in a trembling, prayer-like supplication. She even bent on one knee in a startling gesture of humility. And gazed expectantly into my wide brown eyes with horrified longing.

_Was she really so desperate that she was willing to stoop this low?_ I thought with considerable alarm.

And my alarm only increased as Aro rapidly copied Alice's pleading position. I couldn't help but be flattered that someone was powerful as Aro was also willing to take a knee to persuade me to join him. But I was simultaneously mortified.  _I_ didn't deserve this kind of treatment. I wasn't some queen.

Though evidently, Aro disagreed. And as soon as he knelt, his entire guard frantically scrambled to lower themselves too, so as to not appear to think themselves higher than their master. But to compound my horror, rather than taking a knee, most of them flopped, face-down, into a position of complete prostration.

For a moment, I stood, dumbfounded, and stared incredulously at the circle of bowing vampires around me. It was so  _weird_ to have so many powerful creatures who could easily tear me to ribbons, treating me with such respect. I was at a complete loss for what to say.

I knew that these men and women were terrified out of their minds at the possibility of extinction. And that this gesture of humility was begging me to help them prevent that.

But could I really agree to assist them, when that meant becoming a monster?

I gave the idea some thought. But the longer I looked at the mass of immortal, genuflecting figures, the stronger the reality of my situation stood out in my mind.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?"

The words left my lips with a little more resentment than intended. But even knowing and understanding Alice's reasons, I couldn't help but feel a little betrayed. She  _had_ tricked me into this, after all. Even if she had good motives. Even if she was just trying to save the world.

As my words reached Alice, her pleading expression warped into one of panic and confusion. Clearly this was not the reaction from me that she was hoping for.

But just when she was about to try to say something. Something to direct me back onto the path toward willing ascension into immortality, rather than compulsory acceptance. Aro quickly rose to his feet, and placed a single finger against his own lips.

He breathed a gentle "Shhh," in her direction. Then he swept gracefully to my side.

As his proximity increased, his dark eyes quickly searched mine for approval to touch me. And I gave it to him in the form of clipped nod. After all, my mental barrier was back in place. So he couldn't read my thoughts.

After obtaining my permission, Aro tenderly reached out and clasped my hands in his. I figured it was meant to be a reassuring gesture. But it didn't quite work.

"Not a single member of my guard is forced to be here," he placated softly, gesturing at the prostrated vampires surrounding us. "And despite Alice's promise of calamity if you do not join us, I will not make you the first," he promised with the utmost sincerity.

After his words, Aro abruptly drifted a step backward. Though he was still holding my hand tightly in his icy grasp. So he tugged my arm gently with his so that our clasped hands were outstretched between us.

"You have three options, dearest Isabella," he explained once he was in this new position.

"You may choose to become a vampire and join us," he said with an eerily wide grin to convey his excitement with this prospect.

"…Become a vampire and leave us," he added with a slightly less enthusiastic look crossing over his flawless complexion.

"Or… die…" he contributed finally with deep reluctance.

Alice gritted her teeth in displeasure. Clearly she was of the opinion that I should not be given the option to die.

Aro, who didn't miss it, suddenly, jarringly released my hand. It felt bewilderingly hot without his glacial touch. And his lips hardened into a displeased line as he mulled over the upsetting notion of my death.

He spent a dark moment pondering this. Then he snapped out of his pessimistic musings. And his face brightened with exuberant optimism.

"Should you chose the latter, I will try my best to talk you out of it, of course." He tapped his fingertips together as if he was concocting a scheme which would do exactly that. "It would be such a pity to see your power go to waste…" he lamented. "But ultimately, I will respect your decision. Even if it is death."

"You would do that?" I asked, finding it very hard to believe. "You would really let me die? If that was what I really wanted?"

I didn't want to die. Not really. But I wanted to know if Aro's commitment to his traditions was really that strong.  _Was he really willing to risk extinction to give me free will?_

Aro ducked his head in sorrow. And curled his hands into pained fists. "If that is truly your wish…"

He started to float forward then with a hungry look in his eyes. His head angled toward my neck. And one of his hands reached out slowly to wrap around me.

"No!" I rushed to say, realizing abruptly he was very serious. "I uh…"

Aro backed off immediately, licking the venom off his teeth. Then he regarded me curiously. "So what is your choice, dear Isabella?"

He seemed unable to prevent a smug smirk from pulling at the corners of his mouth. Nor to stop his eyes from crinkling slightly in happiness that I was avoiding what he deemed to be the least appropriate decision.

I wondered then if it had been a ploy. If Aro hadn't really been meaning to devour me then and there. If faking it was just one of his methods of persuasion.

It was entirely possible.

I tried not to feel affronted by that. And chewed my lower lip with a vengeance as I mulled over my options.

Death had never really been in the cards. I had meant, and still meant what I had told Alice on the plane. And Edward in the hospital. And at prom. And countless other times. That I wanted to become a vampire.

So that only left two options. Join the Volturi. Or go join some other coven. Maybe even Carlisle's.

_But can I really refuse to join the Volturi?_ I wondered

If Alice's visions were going to come true—which wasn't guaranteed, but  _extremely_  likely, given her track record—then the entire vampire race was depending on me. They needed me to assist them in the upcoming battle. And it wasn't like I could just selfishly ask to be transformed and leave them all to burn.

I cringed just picturing it. All the immortals in this room torn and blown to bits. Their bodies scattered all over the ruined urban landscape of Seattle. Their charred flesh sticking out amidst piles of rubble, and lying next to charred-to-the-bone mortals.

I shuddered. I hated the thought of inadvertently being responsible for that. It just wouldn't be right.

But on the other hand, if I were to become a vampire and joined the Volturi... People would die to feed me. I was certain of it.

While  _technically_  it was possible for human blood to be drawn out of the veins and into a thirsty vampire mouth without killing—there was bagged blood, morgue blood, blood taken in syringes surreptitiously in the night, etc.—I would be  _savage_  as a newborn. Ruled entirely by my instincts. And Aro would resort to the same methods he'd used on Carlisle, if necessary. So I was fairly assured that, at least my first meal, would bring about someone's demise.

And I wasn't even sure I could stop after that. Perhaps, if I found killing humans as intolerable as Carlisle did, then I might have the strength to seek out other methods after my first feeding. But having felt the incredible pain of newborn thirst through Carlisle's memories. And having already decided that my resolve was not sufficiently firm to resist a newborn's murderous instincts. I knew that was unlikely to be the case.

So if I was transformed into a vampire, and I didn't have Carlisle helping me, I would probably end up becoming the remorseless killer I had sworn to never become.

And yet… if I did take a position within the Volturi, I would almost definitely save thousands, if not millions more than I killed.

_Is that not justification enough?_ I contemplated uncertainly.  _Those people are counting on me… No, the whole world is counting on me to protect it from chaos and devastation._

_But_   _will I really be okay with killing a few to save many?_  I considered.

I looked gravely down at my hands and imagined them splashed with bright crimson. Then I saw the bodies of my human friends lying mangled at my feet, with frozen expressions of terror. And I stiffened further as I recognized Charlie and Renee amid the grisly pile within my mind's eye.

Surely, in reality I would take care not to hunt those I cared about. But that did not change the fact that nearly every mortal on this earth was a friend, a sibling, a parent, or a lover to someone. And that by feeding in the traditional manner with the Volturi, I would be cruelly taking them away forever.

_Can I live with myself if I destroy the loved ones of others?_  I pondered.

_Or would it be worse to let all of vampirekind die?_

I couldn't be sure. I would have blood on my hands either way.

"I… I…" I choked out, emotionally distressed.

"Yes, Isabella?" Aro murmured softly.

He tilted his head eagerly in anticipation of my response. And tapped his fingertips together in a gesture of unbridled excitement.

This set my frazzled nerves even more on edge than before. Panicking, I quickly looked away from his enthusiastic complexion.

But in the process, I unintentionally caught Alice glancing longingly in my direction. A glance that signified her desire for me to fulfill the "destiny" outlined for me in her apocalyptic vision.

Turning from Alice, unable to bear the sight of her begging eyes, I watched in mortification as Demetri and Felix paused in their taunting of Edward. And donned imploring faces.

Edward himself, gritted his teeth in harsh disapproval. Then mouthed the words "Don't do it."

In the corner of the room, I also noticed the Christian vampire Renata and Aro's other female bodyguard briefly exchanging worried glances. Before they nodded solemnly in my direction.

And several others, whom I did not recognize from Aro's memories—meaning that their faces were either shrouded from my view beneath the dark hoods of their austere cloaks, or that they had joined the coven more recently than the 1700s—cast me beseeching looks. And gripped anxiously at their dark garments.

But what really devastated me as I stood here in the midst of these vampires, struggling to answer a question of momentous importance, was that even Marcus stopped looking lobotomized for a moment. He flickered his gaze curiously in my direction. And if  _Marcus_  thought this matter was earth-shattering enough to actually pay attention, then the pressure was on.

"Have you made your decision?" Aro prompted cautiously.

It was obvious he wanted to avoid rushing me into a foolhardy choice. But he too seemed to have noticed Marcus' uncharacteristic interest in my choice. And judging by his completely petrified expression, clearly this was not a good sign.

_Maybe Marcus is only more interested because he's thirsty? And Aro is just trying to coax me into making my decision before the ancient's self-control completely collapses?_

I wasn't sure. But as I mulled it over, strangely, I felt the sensation of my head bobbing in a nod of agreement. Even though I had no idea what I was going to say.

My clammy skin tingled with anticipation. And my mind whirred with the knowledge that once I uttered whatever I was going to say, I could not take these words back.

"Yes," I unexpectedly announced.

_What are you doing?_  I inwardly begged myself.  _This isn't something you can just thoughtlessly decide! The whole world is at stake here!_

But I ultimately decided to trust my gut. And let whatever answer was building in me slip out. Especially since that was probably the only way I would ever come to a decision. At least, in a timely manner.

Still, I was hoping beyond hope that I would say the right thing.

"I want to become a vampire," I declared coolly, the choice suddenly feeling very right. "And I will join the Volturi as well," I added for clarification in the same bold, unwavering tone.

There was a collective gasp. And a subsequent sigh of relief from all, except Edward.

"Bella, no!" Edward shouted. "You have to choose to die! It's the only way that—"

"Shut up, piss-eyes!" Felix bellowed.

He clapped a hand over Edward's mouth to force him to be quiet. A hand through which we heard muffled shrieks.

"Absolutely wonderful!" Aro exclaimed.

Without warning, he rushed forward to envelope me in a hearty embrace. It was tight and slightly painful as a result of his overwhelming exuberance. But thankfully, still considerate enough not to be literally bone-crushing.

"You will make such a splendid immortal, Isabella," Aro praised.

He abruptly released me from his unyielding grasp. Then danced his excited hands in fluttering motions beneath his chin. And looked for all the world like he secretly wanted to be jumping up and down like a five-year-old who just received the best Christmas present ever.

"I will be  _honored_  to have you as a member of our coven," Aro enthused.

I nodded slowly. I didn't really know what else to do in response to Aro's enthusiasm. But he seemed to accept my small gesture.

"NOOOOO!" Edward screamed again, having freed his mouth from Felix's fingers somehow. "They will make you into a  _murderer_ , Bella. A  _monster._ Is that was you want?" he demanded.

Edward's black eyes shined with venom. And I wanted to guiltily avert my eyes. But my spite for Edward's rash, unsympathetic behavior proved stronger than my shame in the end.

"I understand that most of the Volturi have no respect for human life," I replied, straining to keep my voice even. "But with all that I have seen, I cannot find it in me to hate them for it," I admitted honestly. "Does it bother me? Of course."

I wanted to make sure that Edward and everyone else in this room was aware of the fact that human demise still perturbed me.

"Do I wish they would not pick such innocent victims? Of course," I contributed further.

After this remark, Aro briefly closed his eyes, looking suspiciously saddened. Remorseless, but aggrieved, nonetheless. As though he was remembering the lives of his most blameless prey. Lives he must have experienced through his gift.

"But do I want them to not drink from humans at all?" I asked as my final rhetorical question. "No."

"What?!" Edward spat quizzically, wholly unable to understand. "WHY?"

"The Volturi need the strength human blood gives them, Edward!" I shouted with unexpected viciousness. He was really starting to get on my nerves. "They cannot afford to be weak in the face of their enemies," I said.

I remembered Carlisle and Aro's conversation about newborns and their ridiculous strength during that first year of their immortality. And I understood that the Volturi would be utterly impotent against their foes if they were to dine on anything other than human blood.

"They are the foundation of the supernatural world's peace and civilization."

I selected those particular words on purpose. They were very similar to the words Edward himself had used when he first described the Volturi to me.

"We are permitted to exist because they labor so hard to protect that peace," I explained further. "The Cullens may be able to live with their weaknesses because their only opponents are occasionally each other. But the Volturi cannot afford the luxury of mercy," I declared finally.

Aro's smile split into an ecstatic grin at my words.

And Edward looked like he wanted to scream something.

But before his angry lips could make any more vexing noises, I swiftly cut him off.

"They are not the villains, Edward!" I yelled, quaking with fury.

"They are not damn saints either!" he argued back with equal vehemence.

"I never said they were," I explained tersely. "Just that I understand I little better now why they insist on following their instincts."

Aro's face positively glowed with admiration. Like I was some sort of heavenly apparition for saying such things.

Edward screeched at the top of his lungs: "You can't do this! You can't just turn your back on humanity like that! How can you change your mind so suddenly? How is eating people suddenly okay?"

"While my mental barrier was gone, you could read my mind, right?" I inquired indignantly.

Edward slowly nodded.

"So you know what I have seen. You  _know_  that animal blood is unhealthy."

"Which is exactly why you have to choose to  _die_!" he shrieked.

"No, I do not, Edward! This is  _my_  choice." I jabbed my index finger at my chest for emphasis. "I don't like the idea of killing people—it's horrifying and gross," I admitted with a slight shudder. "But if my destiny is to become a vampire, in order to save the world, then I will deal with it, for the greater good."

Several vampires reacted to my disgust with worried faces. I guessed they must have feared that it could perhaps overwhelm my desire to join them. But they relaxed after I said that last bit.

"…No… please… Bella… no…" Edward whispered in horror. "Screw the greater good! Why don't you let all the vampires go extinct? Then no more humans would ever be killed to feed them. Wouldn't that be a good thing?"

"No!" I insisted.

I was bit surprised by my fervor. It was like I was already one of them. And the struggle to keep vampires from extinction was a part of my own struggle for survival.

"And even if vampire extinction was a good thing," I allowed for the sake of argument. "Millions of innocent humans are going to be caught in the crossfire if it comes to that," I reminded Edward. "And I cannot let that happen. Is it not better that a few should die to protect the majority?"

"That's—" Edward was dumbfounded by my cold reasoning. "…You can't think like that! What if some of those people were your parents? Your friends? Every human being is a friend or family member to someone. How can you take that away from them?"

"That is the cost of war," I found myself saying in an icy tone, which startled me.

And from the way Alice unconsciously took a single wary step backwards, and Aro floated marginally closer in interest, I could tell that my uncharacteristic declaration had surprised them as well.

"People will die, no matter what I choose, Edward," I explained sorrowfully. "But hopefully, because of my intervention, that number will be significantly reduced."

"You… You… WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?!" Edward bellowed irately at Aro.

Aro chuckled darkly. "Isabella knows that her destiny awaits," he sang in utter delight. "And unlike you," he snarled distastefully at Edward, "she  _embraces_  the price of immortality with open arms."

Aro outstretched his upward-turned palms in a motion which appeared as though he was inviting someone into a warm hug. Then he drew his hands together in front of his chest. And released a deeply contented sigh.

While Aro silently praised me, I looked expectantly over at Alice. Her golden eyes looked unusually glossy. And this disturbed me. Until I realized that they displayed the vampire equivalent of tears of joy, rather than letting me know I had somehow failed her.

"I knew you were smart enough to make the right choice, Bella!" Alice sang. Though her light, musical voice trembled with great emotion, betraying her true uncertainty over the matter.

A wry smile managed to make its way across my face. I was relieved that Alice was pleased. But I was also still somewhat torn about the notion of killing people. And it felt wrong to grin like an idiot when the price of my imminent immortality was so high.

Yes, it was thrilling in a way that I would soon possess a goddess-like potency of beauty and power. No longer would I be boring, old, clumsy Bella. But I felt that to revel in that now, while I was still just as human as the Volturi's wandering "dinner" would be selfish.

I could enjoy the perks of immortality I had lusted after ever since I had met the Cullens when they were given to me. But for now I needed to step aside and allow Aro and his guards to feed.

The world was safe—for now. And with my resolution to join Aro's guard firmly in place, I had no intention of becoming an appetizer for their main course.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters left until I go on hiatus for a few months while I write the second part. I've already written about a third of it, I just want to get the rest written before I start publishing online, so I can make sure I've smoothed out the plot and it's all going the right direction. Wish me luck and a cooperative muse!

CHAPTER ELEVEN: DEPARTURE

…

_I love you, I have always loved you, and I will always love you._

_I was thinking of you, seeing your face in my mind, every second that I was away._

_When I told you that I didn't want you, it was the very blackest kind of blasphemy._

\- Edward, New Moon Chapter 23

…

Resolutely, I began walking towards the turret room's single exit. I was intent on giving Alice, Aro and the Volturi guard the space to hold their monthly meal. And as I walked, I forcibly excised the grisly images of tourists being devoured from my mind.

I was going to join the Volturi someday. So, eventually I would have to learn to get my nausea at the sight of blood under control.

But for now, I just needed to get out of here.

"And where might you be headed, dearest Isabella?" Aro inquired curiously.

He drifted a few steps towards me as I paced determinedly across the circular stone floor. Though his feet made no sound. And my sneakers padded softly over the sienna-colored rock.

"I figured it would be best if I left for a moment so that you and your guard could…" I choked on the word, "... _feed_."

"Ah, yes. How considerate of you." Aro beamed, displaying a full set of blinding white, venomous teeth. "But I think it would be rather educational for you to stay," he countered.

He gestured cordially towards the three wooden thrones flush with the far, curving wall. Marcus and Caius still occupied their chairs on the sides. But the middle throne was empty.

"Take my seat in the center and watch," Aro instructed.

The crowd of vampires in the room inhaled sharply in unison. They were all probably astonished that Aro was offering his seat of authority to me—a mere mortal. But I was surprised by his words for another reason entirely.

"…You want me to  _watch you eat_?" I could scarcely believe my ears.

_What was he thinking? Was he really inviting me to witness?_   _Hadn't Edward said that was dangerous?_

Aro raised a single eyebrow. "You will be joining us in these sorts of activities shortly yourself, if I am not mistaken?" he said, evidently perplexed by my reluctance.

"…Yes, but…"

"You are concerned that it will be dangerous to witness, because you are still human," he breathed in comprehension.

I grimly nodded.

"I assure you, if you take my seat, you will be perfectly safe there," Aro promised, pointing again to the empty throne in the middle. "My guard knows better than to approach it, even when they are thirsty."

I glanced back at the regal chair one more time, surprised that a piece of furniture had that much weight in vampire society. But my feet didn't move. And my facial expression was still uncertain.

"Are you worried that what you will see will distress you?" Aro asked gently.

Something thick passed through my throat. And I nodded again.

"Then it is best that you do stay," he purred. "Human death will not suddenly become any less upsetting upon your transformation. So I would recommend that you start to become accustomed to it now, before the thirst becomes overwhelming," he suggested reasonably. "After all, there is still time to rescind your decision, if you do not like what you see," he explained. "But once you become one of us… there is no turning back," he cautioned gravely. "I will not kill you if you find vampirisim is not to your liking."

I nodded again. And with one last glance at Aro, I quickly scampered up the short stone steps to the throne resting in the middle of the dais.

I settled myself into the large wooden chair uncertainly. I felt like I was disgracing it with my unworthy presence. And the dirty looks the thirty or so vampires gathered around Aro were giving me wasn't helping matters. Though not all of the vampires in the room appeared to disapprove.

Marcus gave me a bored look as he sat in the throne to my right. And Caius, to my astonishment, gave me a short nod—as close to a friendly hello as I was going to get.

But before long, the two vampires beside me rose from their seats and slowly drifted over to the center of the room where the vampires had begun to converge. Their thick, black robes billowed around them as they moved with purpose and eagerness in each powerful stride.

I was surprised to see Marcus' intensity match Caius. But clearly, even in his state of perpetual impassivity, he was not immune to the physical effects of hunger. And his stomach at the very least, was anxious to be satisfied.

"Demetri, Felix," Aro called. And the two vampires looked to him immediately. "Escort Edward out, if you would please," he commanded them. "He can wait in the receptionist's office until nightfall. And then he may be permitted to go home to Carlisle."

_Wait, Aro was letting Edward go? So suddenly?_

Caius shared my incredulity. "You would let the boy go unpunished?" he hissed.

Aro smiled genially at his coven-brother. "Edward has not broken any of our laws today," he felt it was necessary to point out. "And I see no reason to force him to remain, now that Isabella's fate has been decided."

Caius' expression remained sour. But he seemed to accept this. At least, he made no further comment.

"You're forcing me out?" Edward, still trapped in Felix and Demetri's arms, released a low growl of disapproval. And glared daggers at Aro from his position between the two Volturi guards.

Aro regarded Edward curiously. "Unless… you would rather join us for the feast?" he drawled.

I inhaled sharply. Edward's response to  _that_ invitation was sure to be colorful.

" _What?_ " he seethed with a voice like icicles. "No! I would never! And I won't let Bella be here either! She needs to come with me! To come back home! To Forks! To Charlie! To—"

I tuned the rest out. I was getting sick of listening to his complaints.

And after Edward was finished with this, hopefully the last of his irritating tirades, Aro's face twisted with a devious smirk. "That's what I thought."

Edward tried bucking forward in Felix and Demetri's arms then—to reach for me, I guessed. But they held him firmly back. And Caius, who saw the exchange out of the corner of his dark red eyes, honed in raptly on Edward's face.

"The girl stays with us," the white-haired ancient declared. "She is too important to waste."

I was surprised to hear Caius admit this. And without a trace of ire, no less. I guess he really was starting to come around to Aro's and Alice's way of seeing things.

Though, I wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or not. It was bad enough having Aro be so eager to collect me. Like I was simply another jewel in his crown.

But if  _Caius_ wanted to collect me too… I shuddered to think of what that might entail…

While I mulled this over, Edward surged forward in Felix and Demetri's cold, hard hands, and bellowed, "You cannot take her! You have no right! I should decide what's best for her. I  _love_  her!"

I snorted.  _Preposterous_. Love couldn't be what Edward felt for me in the slightest. Maybe he felt a bit of possession. But love? After he'd abandoned me seven months ago?

No. It wasn't possible.

Caius appeared to share my estimation of Edward's true feelings. At least, if the sarcastic  _oh really_  face he was giving my ex-boyfriend was any indication.

" _Love_?" Caius scoffed. "I doubt it."

After his acidic remarks, Caius briefly sought out the strawberry-blonde woman in the crowd that Aro had pointed out earlier as Caius' wife. Then some nearly unreadable emotion flickered across his face. Something that looked suspiciously like genuine affection—though the idea of  _Caius_  being affectionate with anyone was so foreign to me, and his expression was so brief that I struggled to believe I had actually seen it.

Maybe it had been a trick of the light?

Whatever he was thinking, it made Edward snap his teeth together ferociously. And growl at the older vampire.

"Just because I don't treat Bella the same way you treat  _your_  mate, doesn't mean I don't love her with the same intensity. After all, I can't imagine it's any fun for Athenodora to be all cooped up in this dusty old castle."

I flinched when I heard this, expecting Caius to lash out in defensive anger. But after a fleeting glance in the direction of Athenodora to make sure she wasn't offended, he only raised a single snowy eyebrow at the barb.

"Even if it is true that you _love_  the girl—" Caius began, his chilly voice dripping with sarcasm. It was clear he didn't believe that for one second. "—your emotions do not dictate her future. You have no claim on her."

"Of course I have a claim!" Edward roared, thrashing in Demetri and Felix's iron grip. "I was the one to tell her about our kind, to introduce her to our world. Does that count for nothing?"

" _Alice_  was in on your little charade too," Caius felt it was necessary to point out. "And she was first to return to the girl after your coven left the area. So does she not then hold equal claim?"

Edward grumbled something under his breath in frustration, like Caius had him there. But then he thought of another argument.

"I have a higher claim than Alice," Edward declared. "I meant—and still mean—to make Bella my mate."

I felt my whole body ripple with shock.  _What? Was Edward telling more lies now?_ What he was saying couldn't possibly be true.

Caius too, was incredulous.

"Your  _mate_?" The word rolled derisively off his tongue. "If I am not mistaken, you  _abandoned_ the girl for some time before coming here," he contested in an icy voice.

Clearly he did not believe that was how one would treat their mate. And I had to agree.

Edward hung his head. "That's true, but I only left because I loved her!" he stressed, as though that made a difference. "Because I wanted her to be happy!"

Caius looked askance at Edward, like he'd just said the most utterly ridiculous thing he'd heard in a thousand years. "You abandoned the one you claim to _love_  to make her happy?" He made a face. "And did this harebrained scheme of yours actually work?"

Caius didn't look sure as to which alternative would be more incriminating. And I was inclined to agree that both options were pretty bad.

If Edward's plan to leave me behind had actually made me feel better, how well could Edward really have loved me in the first place? If I was  _glad_ to be rid of him, wouldn't that just prove the opposite? That what we'd had wasn't very good?

But if his plan _didn't_  work—if leaving made me  _miserable_  rather than happy—then how could Edward claim he had any idea what was in my best interests? If his grand scheme broke my heart—which it had—then he lost all authority to claim he knew better than I did what I should do.

Edward seemed to realize that he'd backed himself into a corner. And his expression turned sheepish. "Well, no but…"

Edward and Caius argued for a few more minutes after this about who had proper "claim" over me. And therefore who got to decide my fate. Though neither of them had very compelling cases.

Edward's seemed to boil down to appeals to his emotions. Which was flimsy at best—even if I could force myself to believe there was a single iota of truth in his declarations of love. Which I couldn't.

Caius' arguments were more logical. He asserted I had come here with Alice—and therefore she had a claim on me, at least equal to Edward's, if not more, since she'd re-established contact before Edward had. And that the vampire world needed my gift.

But neither of them thought to ask  _me_  about what  _I_  wanted. Which I thought was pretty pig-headed of them. So I, fed up with the argument, decided to cut it short.

"Stop, please, both of you," I begged from my new position on Aro's throne.

Edward clammed up immediately, looking guiltily at his feet. And Caius slowly turned to face me—though there was only the usual level of irritation in his gaze, the same level of ire he had for everyone else, including Aro. His extraordinary distaste with my humanity was gone, it seemed. Something else I would have to get used to.

"There's no need for you to argue. I've already made my decision," I added to bolster my argument.

Edward scowled. "Not with all the facts, you haven't."

I rolled my eyes so hard I swore I could see out the back of my skull.  _There is something_ _ **else**_ _he hasn't told me? Seriously? Would the secrets and lies ever end?_

I made an impatient gesture for Edward to go ahead a spit it out. The Volturi couldn't wait much longer for their meal, after all. They were fidgeting anxiously enough as it was.

"I—" he took a deep breath. "I owe you an apology."

I glowered at him.  _That was the understatement of the century._

"No, of course I owe you much, much more than that," he amended, upon seeing the look of icy disapproval I was shooting at him. "But you have to know—"

The words began to flow fast, the way Edward spoke when he was agitated. And I really had to concentrate to catch them all.

"—that I had no idea that this would happen. I had no idea about any of this. About Alice being a part of the Volturi. About the upcoming fight. About her plans to try and recruit us. About how much my leaving would just make things worse. And I feel sick, sick to my core knowing that I am partially responsible for this situation you're now in. I am the most miserable excuse for—"

I cleared my throat to cut him off. And gestured meaningfully at all the hungry gazes in this room. "Get to the point, Edward."

Edward sighed, but to my relief, decided to comply. "Do you believe that I asked the Volturi to kill me because I felt guilty?" he asked suddenly.

I could feel the blank incomprehension on my face.  _Where was this coming from?_

"Didn't you?" I blurted out, unable to contain my curiosity.

_Was I finally going to get a sensible explanation of Edward's motives? A sensible reason for him to seek suicide after hearing of my supposed demise?_

"Feel guilty? Intensely so. More than you can comprehend," he admitted.

My expression turned quizzical. "Then… what are you saying? I don't understand."

"Bella, I went to the Volturi because I thought you were  _dead_ ," Edward said, voice soft, eyes fierce. "Even if I'd had no hand in your death—" he shuddered as the last word left his lips, "—even if it wasn't my fault, I would have come here."

My brows knit together in confusion.  _Even if it wasn't his fault?_

Edward kept going. "Obviously, I should have been more careful," he allowed. "I should have spoken to Alice directly, rather than accepting it secondhand from Rosalie. But really, what was I supposed to think when Jacob said Charlie was at the funeral? What are the odds?"

_What were the odds, indeed?_ But that was beside the point.

"But I still don't understand," I said curtly, crossing my arms over my chest. I was starting to get impatient. "That's my whole point.  _So what_?"

Edward sputtered in shock. " _Excuse me_?"

"So what if I  _was_ dead?" I clarified. "Why would that even matter to you? You said yourself a few minutes ago that that was what you wanted."

Edward gritted his teeth. And averted his gaze like I'd shot lemon juice directly into his eyes. "No, I said that was what you  _should_  choose, given the options Aro gave you. Not that I  _wanted_ that."

_Had he said that?_ I wondered. I tried going over exactly what he had said in my mind. I mean, he hadn't gotten a chance to finish his sentence. But if I remembered correctly, he'd said,  _Bella, no! You have to choose to die! It's the only way that…._

And functionally, that wasn't any different. He was still begging for my death, either way.

"I don't see the difference," I said flatly.

"I don't  _want_ you dead, Bella," he asserted firmly.

My face flickered with doubt.  _Oh really?_ "Then what do you want?" I demanded with tangible irritation.

Edward squeezed his hands into tight fists at his sides. "What I  _want_ is for you to stay human. If I thought we had even a sliver of a chance at success, I would pick you up right now and carry you out of here myself," he told me sincerely.

Both my eyebrows lifted off my pale forehead. "You would kidnap me?"

Edward mistook the horror in my voice for excitement. "I could still try… but the odds of me getting past the door aren't great," he said, with the tiniest of glances toward Alice. His source for that information, I guessed.

I waved my hands back and forth in vehement disapproval. "No, no, I'm staying. I just… I don't understand why you would go to such lengths to try and save my life—save my  _soul_ —when you don't even like me that much."

Edward stared at me dubiously for a long moment before answering. "Don't you remember anything I told you before? When we were watching  _Romeo and Juliet_  together?"

"I remember  _everything_  you told me," I stressed, making it clear that I was including the words that had negated all the rest in my statement.

Edward closed his eyes, and made an exasperated noise. "Bella, you seem to be under a misapprehension. I thought I'd explained it clearly before. But I'll say it again:  _I can't live in a world where you don't exist_."

I froze in Aro's throne as his words reached my ears.  _I can't live in a world where you don't exist? Wait, is he really saying what I think he is. That he still wants me?_

"I am…" my head swam as I looked for the appropriate word. "Confused." That worked. I couldn't make sense of what he was saying.

Edward stared deep into my eyes with his sincere, earnest gaze. "I'm a good liar, Bella, I have to be. But still, for you to believe me so quickly," he winced. "That was excruciating."

"Wait… so when we were in the forest, when you were telling me… goodbye…?" I prompted.

Edward shook his head. "You weren't going to let me go," he whispered. "I could see that. I didn't want to do it—it felt like it would kill me to do it—but I knew that if I couldn't convince you that I didn't love you anymore, it would just take you that much longer to get on with your life. I hoped that, if you thought I'd moved on, so would you."

"You thought right," I told him sourly. "I  _have_ moved on. And so have you."

"No, see, that's where you're wrong," Edward insisted. "I can see it in your eyes that you believed the lie, and I could see it then to—that you honestly believed that I didn't want you anymore. The most absurd, ridiculous concept—as if there was any way that I could exist without needing you!"

He said the last words as almost a snarl. Like the fact that I believed him actually  _angered_ him. Like he'd expected me to put up more of a fight, and was disappointed that I'd relented so easily.

But I was still frozen with shock. His words were incomprehensible, because they were impossible.

Edward sighed. "Bella, really, what were you thinking?"

"You're lying."

There was no other option at this point. He just  _had_  to be. And given everything else he'd lied to me about, it wasn't exactly out-of-character.

Edward groaned. "That's just the thing. I'm  _not_. Not this time," he promised with as much genuine emotion as he could muster. "Why can't you believe that? Why can you believe the lie, but not the truth?"

My eyes flew frantically around the room, searching out Aro and Alice, to see what their opinions of this exchange really were. To see if their expressions might reveal what was really going on here. But neither of them appeared to contest Edward's words. And that only made me more confused.

"It never made sense for you to love me," I explained honestly. "I always knew that."

My voice was thick with despair. I had always known that Edward was too good for me. Too beautiful. Too interesting. Too  _much_ to be the right match for boring old me. So I had honestly believed him when he'd said he didn't want me. What else  _could_ I believe, when he was only confirming my worst fears?

But the misery in my voice made Edward's eyes narrow, and his jaw tighten.

"What would it take for me to prove to you that I still loved you?" he asked. "That I never stopped loving you, all this time?"

I blinked rapidly. And my lips curled into a scowl. "What kind of idiotic question is that?"

_What would it take?_ Nothing, at this point, could convince me that Edward still loved me. So the question was moot.

Edward made a soft sound of frustration. "Just answer it, please."

I stared at him darkly for a long moment, trying to figure out what he was getting at. Why, in such a tense atmosphere—the atmosphere of thirty-plus-vampires preparing to hunt—he was wasting time trying to convince me to believe such a blatant falsehood. There had to be a reason.

Maybe, his claims to love me were some ploy to get me to leave with him. Maybe Edward thought I really was gullible enough and desperate enough to take his word for it and fall, willing, back into his waiting arms. That if he performed some grand gesture of simulated affection, he could whisk me out of here, and prevent me from becoming immortal.

I didn't like the thought. I wasn't  _that_ childish. Or stupid.

But there was no reason I couldn't exploit Edward's desperation. Normally, I would be against such underhanded tactics. But I guess a little bit of Aro was rubbing off on me after having been inside his memories for so long.

"If you really do care, then you have to promise me two things," I said at last.

"Anything," Edward vowed instantly.

I felt the corners of my lips turning up in a victorious smile. That was exactly what I had wanted to hear.  _Anything? Really?_

"Promise me you'll let me go—emotionally, that is," I requested. "I've already moved on." It didn't really matter that Chelsea had aided me in that process. "So you should too."

Edward pursed his lips, and sighed heavily. "I guess, that's… only fair," he conceded reluctantly. "After all, it's what I deserve. I've hurt you too much for you to ever want me again, I can see that."

A look of cavernous guilt consumed Edward's features for a moment, before he seemed to recall that I had asked for  _two_ favors, and not just one. "And the second thing?" he prompted.

My smile couldn't help but grow wider. "Promise me you won't try to fight them—" I gestured to the crowd of cloaked Volturi flocked around Aro, "—when it comes time to change me.

Edward's face couldn't get any paler, but if it could, he would have been white as a ghost. "No, Bella, please, anything but that!" he pleaded, renewing his efforts to thrash in Demetri's and Felix's grips. "You can't—!"

"It's  _my_  soul, Edward!" I shouted at him, infuriated with his disregard for my free will. "What I decide to do with it is my choice."

Edward, realizing his bucking against the hands holding him in place wasn't doing any good, stilled. And his obsidian eyes welled with venom. "Please Bella," he begged me, his voice breaking with emotion. "I'll do anything but that…"

His imploring was totally pathetic. And I was beyond sick of it.

"I'm going to become a vampire whether you like it or not," I announced coldly. "So please. If you really do love me, let it happen without a fight."

I issued it as a challenge.  _That_ was the grand gesture I was going to ask Edward to perform to prove his affections. He had said he would be willing to do  _anything,_  after all. He'd only begun throwing caveats at me after he'd heard my request. And by then it was too late to back out.

There was a tense moment while Edward's eyes begged me to make a different request. But I remained firm.  _Is that really so much to ask? For Edward to let me become immortal?_

It wasn't like I was asking for a deed to the moon.

At long last, realizing I wasn't going to budge, Edward conceded defeat.

"Fine." He snarled the word.

Then he swiveled to glare at Caius and Aro. "Since you've brainwashed her, you can  _keep_  her," he spat. "I wouldn't love her as a  _vampire_  anyway."

I couldn't help but snort. He was still going on about that  _love_  nonsense?

And Caius, again, shared my contempt. He rolled his eyes and scoffed.

Edward ignored both of us, and directed his line of sight back to Aro. "But I'll escort myself out, if that's alright," he snarled, distasteful of the idea of being carried anywhere.

Felix and Demetri tightened their grips on Edward after this, thinking he might try to escape. But Aro to my astonishment waved dismissively in their direction. A motion which prompted the two men to suddenly let go of Edward, and drift back about ten feet.

I expected Edward to use his newfound freedom to lunge for Aro's throat. Or maybe to double back and try to scoop me up off Aro's throne. To try and kidnap me and haul me out of here, human.

But instead, he staid exactly where he was. His only movements were to rub his neck like all the hard white hands on it today had made it sore. And to regard Aro suspiciously.

"I will allow you to go unaccompanied. That is, as long as you promise to behave yourself," Aro offered.

Edward raised his russet eyebrows in surprise at Aro's generosity. But I suspected it was Demetri's and Felix's obvious thirst which prompted this decision, rather than any true kindness or trust. It wouldn't do, after all, for them to miss the feast.

"Head straight back the way you came," Aro instructed further, pointing out the concealed wooden door leading into this room. "And do be careful not to hurt Gianna when you reach her office. It takes so long to train our secretaries properly, these days…"

I swallowed, realizing what Aro was getting at. That the only reason he didn't want his secretary to die was because she would be a pain to replace. That he really wouldn't have minded otherwise.

Edward scowled. "I'm  _not_ going to eat her," he vowed, his voice thick with resentment at the insinuation.

Aro chuckled softly. "Of  _course_ not," he said with the tiniest hint of sarcasm. "Well, then, I suppose you had best be on your way," he finished, gesturing again to the door. "And please do try and wait until dark to step outside this time. We  _do_  have secrets to keep, after all."

Aro smiled conspiratorially. He seemed to think his subtle reference towards Edward's earlier stunt was a little funny.

Edward ignored the veiled barb, and nodded.

But before he could leave, Aro motioned to Felix with one finger. Felix came forward at once, without hesitation or question. And Aro, as though this was something he did every day, unfastened the charcoal black cloak the huge vampire wore, and pulled it off his shoulders. Then, without preamble, he tossed it to Edward.

Felix, who was now only wearing a black suit, crimson dress-shirt, and polished shoes, didn't protest. He knew better than to complain about Aro's strange decisions. But his tight expression clearly indicated that he was upset. And I could easily imagine why. For his cloak—one of the symbols of his loyalty to the coven—to be ripped away from him so suddenly, and given to the enemy….

I tore my eyes away from the hulking vampire, and watched the cloak sail through the air with rapt interest—like an ink stain spreading across parchment. It flew in a perfect arc toward Edward. And he caught the garment expertly when it reached him. Though he regarded the dark fabric pooling in his hands with open skepticism.

"Take this," Aro instructed. "You're a little conspicuous."

_A little?_ I looked at Edward again—taking in his bare-chest and designer jeans. He looked like a model for  _Calvin Klein_. And the sparse rainbow flecks dancing off his person in the sunlight weren't helping matters.

Edward, finally understanding Aro's motives for the sudden gift, put the long cloak on. He left the hood down. But after he did up the little clasps securing the garment to his person, most of his faintly shimmering skin was concealed—which I surmised was the point.

Aro sighed when Edward was finished. "It suits you."

Edward prickled with misgiving. And it wasn't hard to understand why. After all, Aro only liked the look of Edward in one of his guard's cloaks because he wanted Edward to join them someday.

But he quickly got over it. "Thank you," Edward said a bit hesitantly. "I'll wait below until nightfall."

"Goodbye, my young friend," Aro sighed softly. "I hope you come again soon."

Edward narrowed his eyes in concentration. I guessed that he was trying to focus on Aro's thoughts to see if he was sincere. To see if Aro really was giving him license to leave Volterra. Provided, of course, that he didn't try and pull another stunt like the one he had attempted at noon.

At long last, Edward decided Aro must be telling the truth. And without any further hesitation, he marched toward the single exit. Then slipped into the stone antechamber beyond. Slid aside the concealed wooden door. And disappeared down the long hallway past that.

I looked after him with mixed feelings as he swept out of sight. On the one hand, I was glad he was safe. That he was being allowed to leave without coming to any lasting harm. But on the other, I felt bad that he wasn't going to stay. That our paths diverged here. Probably forever.

I wondered if we would ever see each other again. And what he would think of me—red-eyed and immortal—when that time came.  _Would he resent me for my decision? Hate me, even?_

I didn't care to the same degree I would have if Chelsea hadn't helped me fall out of love with him. But I wished that somehow we could still be friends. That our fleeting, unsuitable romance didn't have to end in complete tragedy. That Edward would at least see me as someone  _tolerable._ And not as the enemy.

But at this point, that was probably just a pipe dream. The way he'd said  _vampire_  just seconds ago still shot ice into my heart.

"Jane?" I heard Aro instruct the tiny blonde, once Edward was completely out of sight. "Go tell Heidi that we are ready for our meal now."

My heart gave a funny jolt.  _Oh. Right._ _ **That**_ _was happening._

Jane nodded once. Then obediently and eagerly scurried out into the hall to fetch their food.

After she had disappeared, I watched, startled, but not surprised as Alice moved gracefully in sync with the other vampires towards the center of the room. Toward where everyone was waiting for their meal to arrive.

Aro smiled when he saw Alice take her place amid the thirsty crowd. And for some reason, the sight made me feel sick.

Perhaps, it was because in spite of all that I had learned today, the information that Alice had been with the Volturi all along was still so new. And my mind still struggled to reconcile the false, friendly, animal-drinking Alice I had known for the past year with the altruistic, but masterfully manipulative, human-drinking Alice she truly was.

She had told me on the plane that she already considered me her sister.  _But d_ _id she still mean that?_ I wondered as she skipped enthusiastically to the front of the crowd.

I wanted to ask her. I needed more reassurances—I realized. All of this was so new. But the time for asking questions was over. It was dinnertime now.

The guard bewilderingly made no protest as Alice stood closest to the door. I had expected Felix, at least to say something. But maybe they permitted her to pass since her thirst was the most intense at the moment.

She was, after all the only guard member with golden eyes. A color, I now knew meant more dire thirst than dark red did.

Or perhaps they simply did not want to upset Aro by antagonizing one of his favorite acquisitions for a closer spot.

Either way, shortly after Alice had settled into a comfortable stance, the entrance doors creaked open ominously. And Jane flitted in through the passageway.

She quickly took a choice spot beside Alice. And once she had glided into position, the party of roughly thirty vampires automatically shifted. They flowed backwards in one fluid motion to stand roughly thirty feet from the entrance. This gave Heidi and the tourists adequate space to filter into the room.

While the guard's black cloaks were swirling from their movements, Heidi sauntered into our midst. And the forty or so tourists I had seen before, trailed in hesitantly after her.

Heidi looked the same as ever—hypnotically gorgeous. She was wearing a very short mini-skirt and thick black tights that showed off her long, shapely legs. And the crimson shirt that stretched over her upper half might have seemed more modest. It covered almost everything—it was high necked and long sleeved. But it was  _very tight._ The breasts beneath it looked like they were straining to escape….

I gawked at her for a moment, trying not to stare too much at the overstretched fabric beneath her Volturi pendant. But it was hard even for me to look away. Even with full awareness that what she was doing was some kind of trick.

Finally, some minutes later, I managed to peel my eyes off her. Then—once free—my eyes flickered immediately to the forty humans milling into the room.

But I was upset to notice that the tourists looked much more worried than before. Almost all of them were glancing around with frightened, suspicious eyes at their surroundings. And several were whispering nervously to each other—words which I couldn't quite catch.

But from the tenor of their voices, I suspected they weren't good.

A short, dark-skinned woman near the back of the group looked the most anxious. She wore an ornate rosary around her neck. And clutched the cross in her hands while mumbling incomprehensibly in Portuguese, like she was saying a prayer to ward off evil.

I guessed Heidi's detour had only made the wrongness of their situation more obvious. Obvious enough to override whatever common-sense-erasing allure she had.

Only one was snapping photos now—a fat, American man in a florescent Hawaiian shirt. The woman clutching her rosary tried to swat away the flashing camera, and explain the urgency of the situation.

But the American didn't understand a word she said. And he was much too absorbed in trying to capture every angle of the beautiful vampires before him, to care.

While the two argued, the others looked for an explanation from Heidi as to what this was all about. But she gave them none.

Once all of the tourists had piled into the room, Aro floated forward. And all the vampires parted like the Red Sea before Moses to allow him passage to the front.

As he moved slowly forward, Heidi surveyed the vampires in front of her. The dark eyes of Aro's guard glittered with unrestrained delight as they looked over the crowd. And their tongues flicked anxiously out of their mouths.

She frowned a little, at the severity of their thirst. Then, unexpectedly, her eyes flicked to me.

She stared at my unusual place on the throne in curiosity for a moment. Though her gaze lacked the disapproval I had been expecting. There was only confusion and a bit of—was that exasperation?

Whatever it was, it only lasted for a second. Then she looked back at Aro. And I guessed she must have decided to ask him about it later.

Aro stopped a few feet short of where Heidi stood, between the two groups, human and vampire.

"Welcome home, Heidi," he purred in a smooth, buttery voice. "Anything interesting I should know before we begin?" he asked politely.

Aro took her hand in his then—another thing he did utterly without preamble. And if Heidi was surprised by the sudden breach of privacy, she didn't let it show. I guessed this was probably routine for returning Volturi.  _Greet Aro. Offer him your hand. Let him see what you've done while you were away._

"Not particularly," Heidi answered with an absent smile as Aro poured over her recent thoughts. "They are a fairly typical group, it seems."

The crowd of humans looked totally confused by the exchange between the vampires. And another mummer of frightened whispers passed through them as they struggled to process what was going on.

I still wasn't able to make out much from my position on the throne. But I clearly saw someone point an accusatory finger towards Aro's twin daughters, and say: "Do you see their eyes? Red eyes, all of them. That doesn't strike you as creepy?"

And another: "I knew this free trip was too good to be true."

I gripped the armrests of Aro's throne with white-knuckled intensity. They were starting to become suspicious. They were starting to figure out the truth.

But I watched the terrible scene unfolding around me, I knew that soon it would no longer matter what they suspected. Because they would be dead. And dead men told no tales.

"I can see that," Aro acknowledged.

He released Heidi's hands before swiftly turning to the crowd. Then he raised his arms in a wide gesture I recognized all-too-well from his memories. The signal to begin the feast.

I cringed as I heard him speak the words, knowing that this time, I would not be spared from witnessing the experience. This time, unlike every other time, it would not fade to black.

No, I would see and hear everything. In grisly, firsthand, high-definition.

"Welcome, guests! Welcome to Volterra!" he sang.

And no sooner than the words had left his lips, the vampires all at once began to descend on their prey. And the walls echoed with blood-curdling screams.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, if it wasn't obvious from the previous chapter, this chapter is where this fic really earns the "graphic depictions of violence" archive warning. And the next two are in a similar vein. Also, only two chapters left until I take a little break to finish writing the second part!

 

CHAPTER TWELVE: BLOODBATH

…

_When we hunt, we give ourselves over to our senses… govern less with our minds._

_Especially our sense of smell._

_If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way…_

Edward, Twilight Chapter 11

…

Nothing could have adequately prepared me to watch this. The bare glimpses of death I caught at the edges of the memories Aro had shown me today could never compare. Nor could the gruesome hunting scenes I'd seen in nature documentaries. Never, even in my worst nightmares—which could be quite vivid—had I seen anything like thirty-plus vampires feasting.

It was bone-chilling. And at the same time, macabrely beautiful.

When Aro gave the signal, at once every vampire surged forward. They moved as a wall of black and red towards the nervous congregate of humans. And as they darted toward their prey, their dark robes rustled like the wings of a thousand bats. And a rumbling sound like thunder echoed off the walls as so many feet thundered across the floor.

Another sound erupted a second later. But this sound, in stark contrast with the low rumble of feet over flagstones, was sharp, and high pitched. At first, I thought it might be some kind of alarm—like the keening of a smoke detector running low on batteries. But it was much worse than that.

It was the sound of forty tourists screaming as they were surrounded by thirsty predators.

I cringed as I watched their innocent faces stretch wide. Their screaming mouths seemed too large for their faces. Too much teeth and throat. Not enough lips.

And I only felt worse as their high screams mingled with the low, thunderous sound of the approaching guard. It was a discordant symphony of death. And as the lethal dance began I struggled to choke back the bile that was steadily rising in my throat.

_This is real,_  I realized in terror. Real, as in real people were going to actually die right in front of me. And there was nothing I could do about it.

No, worse than that, soon I was going to be a  _part_  of it. And despite my earlier assertions in favor of the "greater good" at the expense of the few, the knowledge that these poor, innocent people were about to die still made me painfully sick.

They trembled and huddled together as the Volturi approached—the most human and heart-wrenching of reactions. But the Volturi showed no sign of mercy. As they barreled closer, most had their hands ferociously extended. And their teeth were bared as they rushed in for the kill.

But as I fidgeted uncomfortably in Aro's throne, I refused to avert my eyes. And instead forced myself to focus. To watch every horrid detail. So that when the time came for me to do this myself…

Aro's warning words rang in my ears. " _It will not suddenly become less upsetting when you become one of us_."

I forced myself to swallow. If Aro planned to transform me soon—which seemed like the plan—then I needed to get working on getting rid of my discomfort with human death immediately. After all, it wouldn't do to wallow in unnecessary guilt when it came time to feed.

Alice, Aro and the whole world it seemed was depending on me now. And unless I wanted a nuclear fallout on my hands, it seemed that I could not afford to let them down.

Of course, uprooting one's very  _foundation_  of right and wrong was a lot easier said than done. For eighteen years I'd believed killing people to be, if not the  _apex_  of evil, then at least very near it. So trying to wrap my head, and more importantly my heart, around the idea that it was okay all of a sudden wasn't going to happen overnight.

And most certainly not in the seconds it took for the feast begin.

While I fretted over my changing morals. Alice was the first of the vampires to grab hold of her intended prey.

She had been at the very front of the dashing crowd. And the entire time she ran her wide gold eyes had been fixated on the American man who had been snapping pictures before.

I cringed as she seized the American harshly with her gloved hands. And I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from screaming as she abruptly buried her head into his neck.

An awful wet ripping sound was heard as Alice tore hungrily through his skin. Then bright red blood began to pour from the cavernous laceration she made. And the viciousness with which she slurped up the thick fluid as it gushed from his esophagus churned my stomach.

The man in her arms was wracked with excruciating pain as her venom was introduced into his bloodstream. So he howled and wriggled in her solid granite grasp, trying to escape it. And in the process he ended up dropping his expensive-looking camera, which broke into pieces instantly when it hit the floor.

But Alice paid his pitiful struggles no mind. In fact, as she consumed him she didn't pay  _anyone_  any mind. Clearly, for her the only thing that existed was the blood pouring down her throat.

As she drank, I noticed that every curve and angle of Alice's petite body appeared to be livened with a feral electricity. The act of feeding was clearly energizing her. Restoring to her the strength she had lost during those years of living on the brink of starvation.

It made me queasy to watch her imbibe this man's life away so excitedly. But remembering my purpose for witnessing this, I briefly glanced away until the worst of my nausea passed—it would be terribly rude to lose my lunch, after all. And then I redirected my horror-struck eyes towards the rest of the tour group.

I was anxious to see their reactions. To see what they thought of this terrifying violence. And what they might do to try and escape it themselves.

But when I looked, I noticed the rest of the thus-far unscathed tourists weren't really doing much of anything. They were still screaming of, course—mouths agape wider than I thought anatomically possible. And a few had backed up a few steps from Alice and her meal.

But most of the tourists seemed completely frozen in shock. Like they couldn't process what was happening. And their confusion was so strong it hampered their motor capabilities.

I felt a wave of disappointment when I saw this. And then felt sick with myself all over again.

_Who was I to judge what the proper reaction to such nonsensical horror was?_ Could I honestly say that had I been in their shoes that I would not do the same? That I wouldn't stop, and wonder what on earth was going on, if I hadn't known that vampires were real? That I would know to run, when I had no clue of what I was running from?

While I pondered this. Jane leveled an icy glare into a twenty-something year-old Asian woman. The woman abruptly collapsed against the hard stone floor. And at once, she was jerking like she was being electrocuted. And shrieking at a decibel that grated on my eardrums.

Jane watched her prey writhe, scream, and beg for mercy in sobbing Japanese, with cruel amusement. But after a few moments, she seemed to grow bored with playing with her food. And lunged for the woman's throat.

While she feasted, crouched over on the ground, Caius, and a few nameless guards rapidly subdued their own meals. It was more of the same. Picking the prey. The chasing. The sudden lunges. Vampire faces buried in human necks. That awful wet, ripping sound. And the slurping…

Oh… the slurping…

But of the group, Caius was by far the scariest to watch. He drew out every part of the process, savoring the fear he was eliciting in his victim. And at last, when the woman he was hunting—a frail, bony girl who looked like she could desperately use a hamburger—looked like she was ready to pass out from fear, he ended the torture. Decisively. With his teeth lodged deep in her screaming neck.

Her shrieks split the air, louder and higher than the rest—which only seemed to excite Caius more. And the sound also seemed to finally knock some sense into the remaining mortals. For they chose that moment to scatter frenetically throughout the room.

Some scratched against the hidden panel door in a pitiful attempt to escape the room—I guessed Heidi must have locked it somehow at some point. And others simply ran wildly about, trying their hardest to avoid the dashing vampires. But every one of them was desperate to get away from hordes of grasping hands and venomous teeth searching them out. Even if their howling and scrambling was pretty pathetic.

As absolute chaos erupted in the turret room, I was disgusted to see several more immortal faces besides Caius' twist into expressions of sadistic glee. And I felt my heart sink. I didn't like to see anyone, let alone so  _many_  being  _pleased_  with the terror of their soon-to-be victims.

And I wasn't the only one who was disturbed by the abundance of sadism. The Volturi's evident satisfaction only served to terrify their intended meals further.

I tried to avoid watching the cruelest guard members feed—to focus on the kinder souls who took their prey without ceremony. But all of a sudden it was hard to know where to look. Most of the guard were hard to identify now, since their faces were buried in some human's wriggling neck. And of those I  _could_ see, only two—Aro and Marcus—seemed to display other emotions than brutal excitement.

Marcus wore an expression of shrewd calculation as he paced slowly around the room. And as he moved, he swept his dark eyes over the humans scurrying away from him, searching for something. I guessed whatever unknown criteria made for the perfect dinner.

Aro's face, on the other hand, presented a vibrant kaleidoscope of emotions. They ranged from mildly amused, to inconsolably sad, to ravenously thirsty. And at first I wasn't sure why.

As he glided effortless over the floor, his eyes flickered wildly toward every remaining menu option. And at first I was perplexed by his indecision. After all, it hardly mattered who he chose, if no one's blood particularly appealed to him.

But as he searched, I caught his fingers twitching slightly. And that one little motion reminded me of a very important consideration Aro had to make. A consideration about his meals that the other vampires didn't have to worry about.

When Aro touched his prey, he would gain all of their memories. So what he was probably doing now was be trying to ascertain which life would be the least traumatizing to witness as he drained it away. After all, some people had lived through some horrible things.

And when he bit them, he would experience the pain of his own bite through their own perspective too. And not only the pain of the bite in the moment. But Aro would also be able to intimately connect with every aspiration his victim had ever had. Every goal. Every dream. Every motivation for living. And every clamoring instinct for survival.

He would see all of this, when he sank his teeth into their skin. And that, I decided, had to be absolutely torturous.

_How could he stand to do such a thing?_  I marveled.  _Jasper thinks his own gift makes feeding hard. But to me it looks like Aro has a much worse burden to bear._

I felt a stab of empathy for the man. And it jarred me that I could feel such a thing right now.

_How can I feel empathy for him at all? When he is ultimately the same as his guard? A remorseless killer?_

After all, though Aro had not yet selected his prey, the evidence of _that_  was all around me. As Aro paced around the room, milling between murderers and their victims, I couldn't find in him the slightest indication of discomfort. At least, not with his ghastly surroundings.

And his lack of remorse was devastating. I held the armrests of his throne in a death-grip. And bit down even harder on my tongue to keep myself from screaming. Not hard enough to draw blood, thankfully. But hard enough to cause a searing pain in my mouth.

_How can he just let this happen?_ I wondered, my heart clenching painfully, and my eyes stinging with unshed tears.  _Walk amidst so much death without even blinking…?_

While I was lost in pondering this, I noticed Aro's daughters raise both their chubby little arms in unison. They pointed at an older Latino man in his late fifties.

He was cowering pitifully near the curved wall, and muttering what looked like a desperate prayer in Spanish. And when he noticed the approach of the little girls, he stumbled over his own feet trying to run away, crashing helplessly to the floor.

As he shakily clambered back to his feet, without a word, the unsettlingly synchronized twins split up. They dashed towards him from both sides. Then suddenly leapt above him in deadly, graceful arcs.

There was a terrifying, and yet breathtaking moment as they soared over his head. The girls' lavish, crimson gowns fanned out beautifully around them—a splash of color against the dull walls. And their cherubic faces and arms sparkled as they passed through a thin shaft of sunlight.

But the beauty quickly turned sour when the littler girls landed. They fell with stunning precision onto the man's shoulders. And wasted no time using their tiny, razor-sharp teeth to bite gruesomely into his neck.

The force of the twin's impact knocked the man off his feet. And his fall sent all three of them hurtling to the floor.

But even as the twins followed the man down into an ungainly heap on the ground, neither of them broke away from his throat. Nor did they seem to care that the man pinned beneath them was weakly struggling. And that globby, salty tears were pouring from his eyes, and staining the silk of their gowns.

Like Alice before, the only thing that existed for these girls while they fed was the blood surging into their mouths.

The tears building at the edges of my eyes poured down my face then. They burned my cheeks. And made my nose run unglamorously. But I didn't care. This was too horrible for me to be self-conscious.

As the twins happily devoured their shared meal, some of the first vampires to start feeding finished draining their victims. And I could tell because they drew their heads back from their victim's pale necks. And let their victim's bodies flop to the floor, like discarded candy wrappers.

I stared at the abandoned corpses for a moment in disbelieving horror.  _How callous. How cruel._ Before I forced myself to look away.

As the vampires finished, one after the other, I noticed their lips and sometimes chins too were all stained the same hue of vivid crimson as their eyes. And their cheeks were flushed brilliant rouge.

But the one thing I'd been expecting to see—bright crimson eyes—eluded me. Because every vampire who finished their meal had their eyes closed. As though they were still enraptured by the taste.

I was confused by this at first. But before I could truly understand what was happening, the bodies of these sated vampires seemed to involuntarily arch backwards, and strange noises escaped them. The noises sounded halfway between the "ah" sound one makes after downing a particularly refreshing drink, and the cries of delight issued in the climatic throes of passion.

A hot blush suffused my face as I heard more and more vampires start making the same, strangely orgasmic noises. And suddenly I felt dirty for having witnessed their satisfaction.

Especially as Alice's head titled back. Her dusky eyelids fluttered closed. And she released the loudest moan of them all.

I felt the weirdest jolt at the sound.  _Such arousal._  To be honest,the display shocked me. I mean, Edward  _had_ once said his brothers believed that drinking human blood was better than sex. So I guess I wasn't really surprised that his words had turned out to be true. But still, I hadn't expected the level of pleasure the vampires around me were experiencing to be that  _obvious._

For half a second, I almost felt like I was witnessing an orgy instead of a feast. So many people moaning in pleasure…

…And then the next chorus of earsplitting screams completely shattered that illusion.

_Right. This is murder I'm watching here,_ I realized, my stomach clenching rottenly as I watched another group of sadistic vampires seize their prey.  _Not sex._

The room reverberated with the awful slurping noises again for a moment. Almost every guard member was either finished with their meal, or grasping a tourist now—arms tight around their bodies, and heads buried in their necks. And my eyes flicked with sick dread between pair, after pair of vampire and mortal, locked in a deadly embrace.

I saw human limbs flailing in every direction, kicking and punching against black cloaks. And the screams coming from human lips only grew higher and louder as the vampires buried their teeth deeper into their throats, poisoning the humans' blood with their fiery venom.

But the vampires, again, paid their human victims no mind. They ignored the impotent arms and legs thrashing against their rock hard bodies. And drank greedily, like they were sucking down their favorite flavor of milkshake.

It was horrifying to watch. But to my relief, it didn't last forever. After some minutes that felt like an eternity, at long last, this next round of vampires concluded their meals.

They threw their heads back in the same fashion as the others. And audibly expressed their delight.

The symphony of moans sent the weirdest shock of desire through me—a feeling I was deeply ashamed of. And Marcus seemed to take this oddly arousing sound, as his cue to select his prey.

He darted without warning toward a young African couple. They were kneeling on the floor near the center of the room, surrounded on all sides by discarded bodies—I guessed they'd chosen this spot to try and avoid detection. To play dead? And they clutched each other in fear while whimpering nonsensically.

As Marcus approached them, they made no additional protests. They seemingly eerily resigned to their fate. And most disturbing of all, they didn't even scream as Marcus' strong hands aggressively separated them.

Marcus took the man forcibly away from his wife. And tore at the man's soft flesh with his teeth. All in one fluid movement.

It was disturbing to watch Marcus feed with such fervor. He had seemed so utterly lackluster about everything in life only minutes before. And I cringed as that awful gooey tearing sound, and Marcus' eager slurping reached my ears.

I closed my eyes then, feeling like a coward. But I just couldn't bring myself to watch all of it. I'd seen too much already. More than enough horror for a lifetime.

Once Marcus had finished with the man, I opened my eyes again just in time to see him callously drop the man's bloodless body to the floor. It landed only a few paces away from the surviving wife. And when it struck the floor with a dull  _thud,_  she shivered and wailed pitifully while staring heartbrokenly into her husband's cold, dead eyes.

Her pain twisted into me like a corkscrew inserted directly into my heart.  _How awful must it be to watch the love of your life get eaten before your very eyes?_

But I was trying to focus on the vampires—on what I was going to become. And make up for my lapse of courage. So I forced myself to look away from her cowering, crying form. And instead riveted my gaze on Marcus.

He licked his bloodstained lips to savor the taste still lingering there, and sighed softly. And at first, I thought that was going to be it. Which was a little odd, since he hadn't made the same ecstatic sound as the others. But too my horror, he wasn't finished.

Unexpectedly Marcus looked down at the woman sobbing over the body at his feet. And at first I thought he was going to taunt her, since his dark red lips were twisted into a cruel smirk. But I nearly leapt out of my seat when Marcus suddenly pulled the woman up into his arms, and proceeded to consume her as well.

None of the other vampires thus far had taken a second victim.

Alec and Renata both seemed to be content with just one. They were now dragging the pale, lifeless bodies they were left with towards several others. Clearly they were attempting to amass all the human remains in a single location. Probably so that they could be more easily dealt with once this was all over.

Jane too, was finished. And she amused herself by sending the handful of survivors crashing to the ground in head-splitting agony.

Even Aro's twin daughters, who had shared their meal, made no move to subdue any additional prey. Instead, they skipped happily, hand-in-hand towards me. And as they plopped into sitting positions several steps up the dais, they settling into an animated conversation about their recent meal.

But while the disharmonious chorus of human fear and vampire satiation continued to ring, I realized that Marcus was not alone in his extra indulgence. After depositing their first victims on the growing mound of expired tourists, I watched Heidi, Vera, Chelsea and Alice all rush off in search of a second course.

And once all four of them had finished their seconds—biting, drinking and gasping—Heidi, in her ravenous thirst, even took a  _third_  victim. And Alice took a  _fourth._

Upon consideration, Alice's extra indulgences made sense. I guessed she must be compensating for the past sixty years of insufficient nutrition.

But the others left me puzzled. Heidi, Vera, and Chelsea didn't look any thirstier than anyone else. Their eyes had been the same wine-dark color.

_Maybe their physical powers make them more ravenous?_

That was something Aro had alluded to in the memories he'd shown me. And since both Marcus and Chelsea had powers that dealt with physical emotions, and Vera's dealt with healing the physical body, that made a certain degree of sense.

Although I wasn't sure exactly how Heidi's power played into all of this.  _Was her charm a physical thing too?_

Or was I way off in my estimations, and there was some other reason, besides physical powers that motivated these vampires to seek additional meals?

I couldn't be sure. But whatever the reason, I shuddered in my seat as I witnessed the four women revel in their additional feasts. But I was somewhat distracted from Heidi's and Alice's final cries of bloodgasming delight as Aro's daughters' conversation reached my ears.

It unnerved me to watch and listen to the twin's cheery, adorable little voices speak so casually of the human being they had just consumed. Like they were evaluating the quality of a particular flavor of ice cream.

Especially since neither of them seemed to notice, or care, that their rosy cheeks were splattered with sticky droplets of blood. And that it ran in rivulets off their immaculate teeth.

They interacted as though absolutely nothing was amiss. At least until Titania seemed to realize there was something lodged in her tiny molars.

She fished around with her tongue for a while. Then eventually spat a sizable, gelatinous chunk onto the stone steps. A chunk which I was horrified to recognize as human skin.

Dark spots filled my vision. And I briefly had to duck my head between my knees to prevent myself from passing out. Watching Aro's adorable daughter spit out a piece of human flesh like it was broccoli stuck between her teeth was just too much.

I was acutely aware that my own tissues were still just as fragile. That I was every bit as edible as the man these little girls had recently consumed. And it was difficult to avoid thinking I could end up as nothing more to these beautiful creatures than a sweet taste and a minor dental annoyance.

Certainly Aro had promised my safety as long as I remained confined to his chair for the duration of the Volturi's gruesome feast. But even with all of my faculties devoted to trying to keep it together—endeavoring not to scream, sob, faint or vomit—I believed it was only a matter of time before I could no longer endure it.

Tears were already gushing down my cheeks. And my throat ached with restrained cries of distress.

My stomach was already swirling. The sticky, crunchy, and slurpy sounds my ears were consistently assaulted with were utterly nauseating.

And the images…

Of pale moaning faces. Discarded scraps of broken skin and clothes. And beady droplets of blood littering the floor.

…They awakened every dormant survival instinct in my body.

My instincts begged me to shout. To run. To hide. To do something other than just sit here helplessly and watch my fellow human beings get viciously massacred.

But I had resolved to do this. And at that very moment, Aro's dark eyes searched mine out among the crowd. There was a light dusting of concern in them. But the main emotion I saw in them was confidence—namely, his confidence in me. And seeing that strengthened my determination to see this through to the very end.

I sat ramrod still in my seat. And watched the ghastly scene of indulgence for a moment longer.

But as I looked, it seemed like it might almost be over. I noticed that Aro was the only vampire still pacing agitatedly around in search of food. The others had all ceased to dine. And they were drifting slowly towards the outskirts of the room, leaving their ancient leader alone as he wandered elegantly in wide circles.

I also noticed that only two humans were left alive. Only two had not yet been added to the hideous pile of bodies. A pile that was amassed over the grate in the center of the room.

I struggled to keep my lunch down while observing the cruel stack. There was hardly any blood—the Volturi were careful enough not to waste more than several errant drops, and two small puddles. But black and blue bruises spotted the skin of most of the victims. And so many limbs were twisted at awkward angles. Angles that would be impossible if their bones were still intact.

Reality hit me over the head like an anvil. The Volturi had not been careful with their victims.

But could I really blame them? After all, humans were so very breakable….

I tried to shake away that thought.  _Focus, Bella. Focus._ But for fifteen agonizing minutes nothing happened.

The room was utterly silent. The remaining human pair—a man and a woman—was shell-shocked into wordless terror, unable to gasp or scream or even cry. And Aro made no sound whatsoever as he floated majestically over the pale stone floor.

As he moved, Aro surveyed both living, frightened figures. And his hungry eyes flickered uncertainly between them. Like he wasn't sure who to pick.

The woman and the man exchanged nervous glances from their positions, clinging to the far walls while Aro paced. But they did not dare make the slightest disruption. Lest they garner the Aro's attention and earn death as a result.

Finally, after he had circled the room like a vulture at least ten times, Aro drifted slowly towards the woman. She was a pasty, freckled red-haired girl no older than nineteen. And she huddled against the wall, trembling behind her knees.

Aro graciously (at least it appeared that way) extended his hand to her. To the unaware, it looked though he wanted to help her to her feet.

Her bright blue eyes widened in disbelief at the terribly out-of-place gesture. And after an uncomprehending moment she hesitantly reached to take it. I guessed she must have figured she had absolutely nothing to lose at this point.

And she was basically right. It wouldn't matter if she took his hand or tried to run away. The outcome would be the same either way.

While Aro languidly pulled her to the woman to her feet, his thin lips whispered something low and smooth in her ear. I couldn't make it out from this distance. But whatever he'd said, it seemed make her relax, putting her in perfect ease in his presence, despite the momentous danger she was in.

Once the woman was breathing evenly again, Aro's cool hands fluidly left hers. They skimmed up over her bare shoulders and tickled softly up her throat. Until they tenderly grasped both sides of her head.

His thumbs traced intricate patterns over her cheeks for a moment. Which caused her innocent blue eyes to widen in appreciative awe. Then he dipped his head solemnly. And deposited a small goodbye kiss on her forehead.

_How… strange…._ I thought as I witnessed the odd gesture.  _It's like he actually cares._

Aro drew back like nothing had happened. And I thought I saw his dark eyes reflect the glossy light of venom. Though it could have simply been a trick of the light.

Whether Aro was crying or not, it made no difference to how I felt. Tears of my own were still spilling relentlessly over my lower lashes. And now they stung the hands clapped over my mouth.

I knew what would happen next.

Aro whispered something that lulled the young woman to calmly close her eyes.

Then his hands suddenly twisted her head sharply to the right.

And her spine emitted a hair-raising  _crack_  as it shattered.

The remaining mortal let out a strangled shriek as he watched young woman go terribly limp all of a sudden.

And I had to agree with him. It was an awful sight.

No longer conscious enough to support herself, the redhead nearly collapsed to the ground. But Aro gingerly caught her breathless corpse in his lean arms. And raised her freckled throat slowly to his lips.

I wasn't sure whether I should cringe or sob as I watched him gently sink his teeth into her skin, and eagerly lap at the blood that spilled forth. His hands fisted tightly in her flimsy white sundress as though he was in considerable pain. And yet his enthusiastically sucking lips and tongue told another story entirely.

Every vampire in the room paused to watch him feed. And I honestly couldn't blame them. The scene was so heartbreakingly beautiful and sad that I couldn't bring myself to look anywhere else.

As Aro fed he somehow managed to keep a single drop of the young woman's precious from slipping wastefully to the floor. Even as he drank with the same savage fervor as everyone else.

Having experienced Carlisle's incredibly messy feeding as newborn. And having now viewed the comparatively tame, but still somewhat carelessly dripping mouths of the other members of his guard. I figured this was an evidence of several millennia of practice, rather than an inherent skill to all vampires.

And I wondered idly how long it would take me to develop that same skill.  _I don't want to waste too much at first…._  Before I shook away the horrible thought.

After a few minutes, the woman's blood was finally spent. Then Aro licked away the viscous scarlet streams dripping from his lips. And his head sailed backwards like the others had.

I knew what was coming. But the sound that escaped Aro's lips was something that nothing could have prepared me for. It was disturbingly orgasmic. And it utterly eclipsed all his earlier apparent despair with extreme, unadulterated pleasure.

Several of the vampires watching looked perturbed by Aro's rapid shift of mood. And stared in disapproval—probably at the first part, Aro's sadness, rather than the last. But they quickly averted their eyes when Aro straightened.

Aro glanced around the room with a severe expression—probably having caught a few vampires staring before they could look away. But before he could say anything, he recalled that a bloodless body was still in his arms. And seemed to decide that he had to deal with that first.

I expected him to drop it, like the others had. And drag it by the wrist to the center of the room where the rest of the bodies were piled.

But instead, in a poignant display, Aro gently cradled his kill in his arms as he carried her over to the pile. And he lowered her to the floor beside the others with astonishing reverence.

Once he was finished, he rose regally to his feet again and coolly stepped away from the pile. He then nodded authoritatively towards a few of his guards.

At his signal, the guard abruptly split into two groups. The first sprinted towards the remaining survivor and forcibly hauled him out of the room—no doubt to be imprisoned in the dungeons until he was needed. And the second suddenly darted towards the pile of bodies and began stripping them for loot.

Clothes were ripped off, and tossed in a pile to be burned. Watches, wallets, phones, cameras and other valuables were sorted into another pile to keep. And the naked figures were heartlessly shoved into a hole in the center of the room. The hole that was exposed when the circular grate was pulled away.

I closed my eyes tightly, and covered them with my hands. Unwilling to watch the unfeeling desecration of the dead. And I planned to remain this way until someone told me it was over.

So I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt an icy hand settle over my shoulder.

My eyes shot open. And I was surprised to find Aro standing before me.

He had bright crimson eyes, flushed cheeks, red-rimmed teeth, and slightly bloodstained lips. But most upsettingly, all traces of his previous sadness and grief had been erased from his features.

Instead, he was grinning ecstatically. As though he was nothing but pleased with the experience of his recent meal. And not at all troubled by whatever emotionally taxing experiences he must have lived through while consuming that poor red-haired girl's blood.

I knew that centuries of practice gave him impeccable control of his emotions. But the switch was still highly unnerving.

"Are you alright, Isabella?" Aro inquired softly, massaging the tense muscles of my shoulders with his fingers. "I do hope we did not frighten you too much with that display."

All I could manage was a numb nod. My emotions were all a mess.

I wasn't sure whether I should break down in devastated sobs. Vomit in total revulsion. Scream in absolute terror. Or laugh hysterically in extreme discomfort.

None of these reactions seemed adequate to express how I really felt. I was terrified and traumatized. But the experience had also been very enlightening. Especially as far as Aro was concerned.

I now felt that I understood exactly what he meant when he had said he had  _"nothing but the utmost appreciation for their sacrifice_."

It was evident that Aro  _enjoyed_ the taste and sensation of drinking human blood. And had enjoyed it to a degree that was mind-boggling in its loftiness. The pleasure he'd gained was so obviously overpowering that it almost made  _me_ thirsty.

But it was equally evident that Aro did not feed torment-free. He'd gripped the woman's dress, like he was in pain while he drank her blood. And the tender way he had lowered her bloodless body to the floor made it obvious that a part of him was devastated. Devastated by the loss of someone who had—through his powers—essentially become a part of himself.

_Nothing but the utmost appreciation, indeed,_ I thought.

"Shall we proceed with your transformation, then?" Aro asked suddenly, capitulating me out of my thoughts.

His eyes, as they peered down at me seemed to completely comprehend the tumultuous storm of feelings raging within me, despite the fact that my mind was closed to him.

"It would be best…" he paused, wringing his hands uncomfortably, "…if I performed the act while I am well nourished. Otherwise, I might simply devour you."

I cringed as he mentioned the possibility of accidentally eating me. But having seen what that would entail, I actually relaxed a little bit. If I were to die being eaten by any vampire, perishing in  _his_  arms was probably the best that I could hope for.

Aro, I now knew, was rather considerate toward his victims. He lulled them into sedation. And snapped their necks so that they would die instantly. So they would not have to endure the agony of his venom.

"Unless…" Aro continued uncertainly, "…you no longer desire to become one of us after what you have seen…"

I shook my head resolutely to refute his last statement. "No, I still want to become a vampire. And I will still join you. But does it have to be right now?"

I was still holding onto the naïve hope that I might be allowed to see Charlie again. One last time before I was shut away from all human connections for ever. I knew my human friends would miss me. And Jacob too. But if I was only given one person I could say goodbye to, I wanted it to be Charlie. He, at the very least, deserved some closure.

But I was silly to think Aro was going to let me out of his sight for even a second. Especially after what Alice had shown him about how crucial I was.

"I am afraid that is when it is safest, my dear," Aro explained with a melodious sigh. "I too—" he splayed a hand over his unbeating heart, "—would prefer to give you more time to consider the matter. But I cannot promise your safety should we wait another few weeks."

"My safety?" I asked, not sure what Aro was getting at.

"With what you now know," he continued, tossing an errant hand in the direction of my brain, "I cannot let you out of my sight until you attain immortality. But to keep you here in such a vulnerable state is ill-advised…"

He trailed off. But I didn't fault him for it. He really didn't need to finish that sentence.

I giggled nervously. "Right. Who knows what might happen on accident?"

I tried keeping my tone light and joking to distract myself from the horror. But it didn't really work out. And Aro took my words seriously anyway.

He nodded and spread his arms wide, as if to say there was a wide swath of possibilities which could lead to my demise.

But I had a pretty good idea he was imagining one particular possibility was the most likely. Another incident like the one that had happened at my 18th birthday party. But occurring in these halls.

"I would hate to lose such a riveting individual as yourself because of thoughtless procrastination," Aro finished.

I nervously chewed on my lower lip and offered a curt nod. Aro was right. It was probably best if I was transformed as soon as possible.

_And honestly, what did I want to wait for? Was I really going to turn my back on the world and change my mind tomorrow?_

No. I had made my choice. And I was sticking with it. Even in spite of the unspeakable things I had just seen.

So it hardly made a difference if I was made immortal today or tomorrow.

"You're right. Change me," I boldly invited.

I extended my arms at either side of me as I sat in his throne. And tilted my head back to offer him much better access to my neck.

Aro gasped—I wasn't sure if it was in excitement or fear. Then he hastily gripped my face by the ears. And pressed it back into its original position.

"It is not prudent to tempt me, Isabella," he warned. "I will need to be in complete control for this."

He cast a few glances around the room at his guard to make sure they hadn't been tempted either. But they weren't even paying attention to us. They were ardently engaged in finishing up the routine post-feast clean up procedures—sliding the circular grate back into place over the hole the bodies had all be dropped into, and mopping the now empty floor.

My nose wrinkled at the harsh smell of chlorine. I guessed the guard was treating the stones with straight bleach to get rid of any evidence of violence. And I felt a wave of disgust at their practicality.

But my disgust only grew stronger when I saw what happened next. After the floor was cleaned and dried, one of the cloaked figures pulled a large silver flask from their belt, and poured another chemical down the drain in the center of the room. This chemical smelled like gasoline. And that suspicion was confirmed when the same guard pulled a matchbox out of some unseen pocket, struck a match, and tossed the little flame into grimy depths below.

The bodies concealed beneath the grate roared ablaze a second later. And the smell of cooking flesh burned my nostrils.

I shuddered in my seat. The Volturi was nothing if not thorough in getting rid of all incriminating evidence. In less than an hour, all of those bodies would be nothing more than a pile of ash.

But the callousness with which the guard carried out this task, and then filed impassively out of the room while the bodies still sizzled and smoked… It shook me to the very core.

Aro didn't seem to think any of his guard's behavior was unusual. In fact, once he realized we no longer had an audience, he continued with his earlier conversation as though we hadn't been interrupted.

"Besides, I think you will want to lie down for this," he told me. "The pain typically lasts for two to three days. And I think this chair will get uncomfortable for you long before that."

_Oh. Duh. Why didn't I think of that?_

I knew what transformation pain felt like through Carlisle. And I definitely did not fancy experiencing that again while struggling to maintain a semi-upright position. Writhing on the floor or against a soft downy mattress seemed much more preferable.

"Can you stand? Or would you prefer me to carry you?" Aro asked tenderly.

I was about to snort at his ridiculous question— _of course I could stand, thank you very much._

But as I rose to my feet, I found myself tottering, dizzily. And I nearly tripped down the steps of the dais and gave myself a terrible concussion.

Aro caught me in his arms before my head connected with anything hard. And he adjusted my haphazard positioning so that I was resting comfortably, bridal-style in his reassuring hold.

Aro began descending the short stone steps then, with me tucked safely in his arms. And as he passed his twin daughters and floated effortlessly closer toward the turret room's sole entrance and exit, he chuckled to himself.

"I do apologize," his rich baritone voice purred softly in my ear, "I simply find it hilarious that you grow faint at the sight of blood, considering what you are about to become," he admitted with a bemused smirk.

I almost laughed myself. It  _was_ kind of funny. In an ironic way. But before I could, I was stricken with a frightening possibility.

"Do you think I will keep that when I change?" I questioned, looking up into his jarringly bright red eyes.

Aro truly laughed this time—loud and ringing like a church bell—as he imagined me as a newborn vampire, passing out as I tried to feed.

"Now  _that_ would be most unfortunate."

A bright smile graced his heavenly features. And it was only enhanced as he strode through a thin patch of sunlight. There his bright white teeth glittered like a thousand diamonds.

"But I highly doubt that will be the case," he assured me confidently as we stepped out the sun. "Your enhanced senses will recognize blood as food."

I swallowed as the implications of that statement hit me with full force.  _When I'm a vampire,_   _I will think of blood as food. I will think of_ _ **humans**_ _as food._

I didn't like that thought. The idea that humans wouldn't be  _people_ to me anymore. Not full-people anyway. They might, if I was feeling generous, count as  _half_.

But there really wasn't any way around that. Nature had designated vampires as predators, and humans as their prey. And no amount of personal squeamishness was going to change the very laws of nature itself.

Aro went on, oblivious to my inner turmoil, "The best human equivalent to the scent is... probably the smell of fresh cookies right out of the oven," he supplied with a sly grin. "Though that still fails to capture it, I think."

He tapped his chin thoughtfully, searching for a more appropriate metaphor.

"Imagine the tastiest food you have ever consumed and multiply that by ten and you will have some idea of human blood's magnificence. Trust me, Isabella, the  _last_  thing you will feel is queasiness," he related with the utmost confidence.

I tried to feel better about it, given Aro's reassurance, while we paced gradually closer towards the turret room's only exit. But as we moved over the freshly cleaned floor—a floor that had seen centuries of violence—I still felt uneasy.

"But you said...  _feeding_..." I struggled with the word, especially now that I had seen what it entailed, "…still would be just as hard..." I protested weakly.

"No, I said that  _killing humans_  will still be difficult to watch and do at first," Aro clarified, with pointed emphasis. "The thirst can compel you to bite. But it cannot absolve you from the guilt you might feel when you are finished with your meal," he explained.

_Oh. That made sense._ I nodded to show that I understood.

A dark shadow of sorrow covered Aro's complexion for an infinitesimal moment. Then his blindingly sunny demeanor returned.

"But enough of this dismal talk," Aro dismissed cheerily. "Let us find a suitable place to change you, shall we?"

…

Aro carried me down the gloomy fortress hallways until we reached a small room in on the same level as the castle turret. The room was very dark, lit with dimly flicking candles sitting in wrought-iron candelabras. It housed a large, soft bed draped in black silk sheets. There was also a low oak table beside it. And a tall dresser on the other side of the room.

As Aro padded quietly over the threshold, he took a deep, focusing breath. Not because he actually required it. But simply as a force of habit to channel his concentration.

Then he settled me gently against the luxurious bed. And I gasped when he climbed slowly onto it with me.

I hadn't expected him to ever be this close to me, let alone on a _bed_  together. And though it was completely stupid, the compromising situation sent my faint lust for him into overdrive.

My heart raced thunderously in my chest at our proximity. And it only got worse the longer he lingered, and the more he touched. I had to grit my teeth to prevent myself from making any embarrassing noises as his hand ghosted over my chest, up toward my neck. And I almost completely lost it when he began tugging the collar of my shirt away from my skin.

I wouldn't say that there was anything substantial about my crush on him. Nothing deeper than what I felt for any of the other Volturi. But there was no denying—mated to another or not—that Aro was a beautiful, powerful vampire. And his scent—even more intoxicating than Edward's had ever been—was making it very hard to think straight. I guessed healthy vampires had more powerful pheromones to lure their prey in too.

After a while though, my rational brain—the one that reminded me Aro was taken, out of my league, and a murderer, (in that order)—reasserted itself. And the strange frenzy of lust I felt died down.

In its absence, I began to wonder why Aro had not bitten down yet. That was the whole reason he'd brought me here, after all. So, nervously, I inclined my head upward slightly to ascertain the issue.

Apparently my shirt was still in the way. And as Aro fought unsuccessfully to drag my collar far away enough from my neck, he only grew more and more frustrated. And he seemed to forget that there were buttons he could undo to remedy that.

Instead, he opted to forcibly rip the garment in half. Of course, the flimsy cotton didn't stand a ghost of a chance against his supernatural strength.

_Riiiip._

I stiffened as I felt a cool draft blow over my suddenly exposed stomach and shoulders. My cheeks bloomed with color. And my skin erupted instantly in goosebumps.

Aro, however, paid no mind to my reaction. Which was probably for the best—I was embarrassing  _myself._  Immediately, he peeled the shredded fabric away from my skin. And leaned in to perform the fateful deed.

His teeth were ridiculously sharp as they bit through my throat. So much so, that I hardly felt them as they sank in. Like a knife through melting butter.

His venom, on the other hand, was a completely different story.

Within seconds I was screaming at the top of my lungs.

The pain was unlike anything I had ever felt before. It was ten-times more scalding than boiling water. And to make matters worse, it was  _inside_ me. Snaking through my veins. And pumping through my heart.

While I screamed, Aro's tongue danced over my hot skin. And he sucked savoringly at the deep wound he had inflicted.

His tasting of my blood only lasted for a second though, before he reigned himself in. With great effort, he resisted the instinctual frenzy. And detached his clamped lips from my bleeding neck.

A few streams of blood leaked over his chin when he pulled away. But he deftly caught them with his tongue before they spotted the dark sheets below. And then, he finally seemed to hear my earsplitting screams.

Aro tried unsuccessfully to placate me with soft shushings and gentle caresses. But suddenly it felt like he was miles away and I had been thrown in to a raging inferno. An inferno that blossomed from my neck and spread rapidly to the rest of my body with each thump of my erratic heart.

Deciding to spare me a marginal portion of pain, Aro dipped his head and bit me in several more places. He bit me on the wrist, across the stomach, on the other side of my neck, and on my ankle. And I guessed he was trying to introduce more venom into my bloodstream and thus speed up the process of my transformation.

But with each bite I screamed even louder. And he struggled even harder to pull himself away.

In fact, I was beginning to worry that he wouldn't be able to stop. That even as nourished as he was, the frenzy was too hard to resist.

But I must have forgotten that he'd successfully turned many other members of the guard. Because it surprised me when he did not succumb to his baser instincts. When he drew his teeth out of my skin while my heart was will firmly beating in my chest.

_Oh. Thank goodness,_ I thought, as he pulled away from the wound in my leg.  _I thought I was a goner for sure._

Aro slipped off the bed gently in the next minute. Then floated back, surveying his handiwork with a torn expression.

Through the thick haze of my pain-inflamed mind, I saw that half of him looked positively delighted that I would be a vampire. And the other half looked deeply sorry that I had to endure so much agony in order to get there.

But I was just glad that he didn't look thirsty.

At least, I was glad for a few minutes. Then the pain inside me started to reach a fever pitch. And I couldn't help but wish he had finished me off instead.

I screamed as much at him. "Why didn't you just kill me?" my voice coming out dry, and hoarse.

But Aro just shook his head sadly at me. And the last words I heard as a human were: "Do not fret, my dear Isabella. The pain will be over soon."

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a little late with this one! My irl wedding anniversary was happening, and I got a little carried away!
> 
> Also, just a reminder, there's only one more chapter before the end of part one! Wish me luck as I work on part 2!

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: FIRST BLOOD

…

_They [my brothers] told me it [sex] was a very great pleasure._

_Second only to drinking human blood._

\- Edward, Breaking Dawn Chapter 5

…

Aro left the room quickly after administering his bites. And no one entered while I transformed. Which was probably a good thing. Because I spent most of the first day thrashing on the bed and screaming for someone to come a kill me. Then spent most of the second day rasping hoarsely for the same thing, since I had overtaxed my vocal cords. And on the third, I couldn't make a sound at all.

At least I was pretty sure that had been the timetable so far. The pain made it hard to keep track. But at some point on what I thought must be the third day I started to feel the fire gradually receding from my extremities.

It left my fingers and toes first, leaving them feeling pleasantly cool. Then it snaked away from my hands and feet. And began slowly pulling back from my arms and legs.

At first, I was elated. The pain was finally going to go away! I was finally becoming a vampire!

But as the coolness crept higher and higher, I started to realize that the flames were not going out. But simply moving, collecting in the center. Focusing hotter, and hotter in the ventricles of my racing heart.

And as the heat in that remaining human organ grew stronger—approximating the temperature of the sun—something else began to happen. My already accelerated heart-rate took off. Like an Olympic sprinter. And thundered loudly at this new breakneck speed.

 _Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump._ It was really going. Like the organ was attempting liftoff or something.

As it pounded, my heart ground against my ribs. I felt like it was going to burst out of my chest at any moment.

And it only got worse as time wore on. The pumping got more insistent with every beat.  _THUMP-thump, THUMP-thump, THUMP-thump, THUMP-thump_. And my chest cavity was starting to feel too much like a volcano on the verge of erupting.

So very hot. And so very full.

_THUMP-THUMP, THUMP-THUMP, THUMP-THUMP, THUMP-THUMP._

My frantic heart hammered harder and faster, until it became a single, sustained note. And at the very same time, all of the fire that had once been spread throughout my entire body flared up into my heart.

I was stunned by how cool everything else felt for a moment. But the heat in my very center was unbearable. It felt like a supernova had occurred inside me.

I made a renewed effort to scream as my heart pumped and burned. And now that the fire had left my vocal cords—and left a healed and immortalized version in their place—a sound actually came out.

It was a high pitched wail that made the stone walls around me vibrate. A truly grating sound. And I was pretty sure everyone in the Volturi fortress could hear it.

I screeched for probably a full minute. And then, suddenly my heart started to slow down. It jolted once. Twice. The sound surprisingly hollow.

Then it ceased beating entirely.

And the pain—that white-hot, fiery pain that had wracked my body for days—totally evaporated in the same instant.

For a moment, all I could process was the absence of agony. The relief I felt was a little like the relief that came from dunking a sunburn into ice-cold water. Only so much stronger. Stronger than anything I'd ever felt.

And then, after a minute or two, it finally it hit me.

I had survived my transformation.

I, Bella Swan, was now immortal.

I took a deep breath of satisfaction. But the air that rushed in through my nose, felt funny in my new lungs. It didn't feel wrong, exactly. It just wasn't necessary to breathe anymore. So the air in my lungs no longer provided the feeling of relief I was used to.

I took a few more experimental breaths, feeling it out. And I discovered that though I did not  _need_ air, I liked it. When I inhaled, I could smell everything in the room around me. From the smoky scent of melting wax. To the woody aroma of old furniture. To the salty stink of sweaty bedsheets. And even the powdery smell of the chalky ancient stones surrounding me.

I'd never had a very good nose before. So it was amazing how perceptive it now was.

I sniffed the air, experimentally. And was blown away all over again.

Intrigued, I decide to test the rest of my senses.  _What would my supernaturally boosted sight reveal?_

My eyelids flew open immediately. There was no delay between my brain and my body now. As soon as the thought of seeing had crossed my eyes, my eyes were wide open. And at once the world around me jumped into tack-sharp focus.

The candles in their irons stands were the first thing I saw. I counted fourteen stark white columns of wax, dripping steadily onto the black metal. And I didn't have to pick one to focus on. I could see all of them at the same time.

In fact, I could plainly see each tongue of flame flickering atop its dark wick. And as they danced like those inflatable tube men you saw next to car dealerships, I was mesmerized. The soft orange glow of candlelight had turned brilliantly bright. And there were more colors in it than before—distinct reds, and yellows, along with the orange.

Behind the candles, I could distinguish every infinitesimal crack in the sienna-colored stones. As well as the individual wood grains in the room's only door. And in front of them, I could see the dust motes in the air—the sides the light touched, and the dark sides, distinct and separate.

It was so much to take in.

But I wanted to explore more.

The instant I thought it, I was on my feet beside the bed. There was no delay. No sliding around on my rumpled bedspread and touching down, one foot after the other before dragging myself upright. One moment I was lying down. And in the same moment I was standing. The motion was so fast it felt like I was teleporting.

But most surprising of all, even during the swiftness, my other senses weren't dulled. I could still see everything in the room—each crack in the walls, each tiny dust mote, each individual tongue of flame—in perfect focus. And I could feel the surprisingly warm stones under the soles of my bare feet, and individual fibers of taffeta as they brushed against my legs.

_Wait, Taffeta?_

My neck turned instantly to examine it. The taffeta covering my leg proved to be blood-red. And it seemed to be part of a stunning, mermaid-style dress that looked like it costed a fortune.

The dress was sleeveless, and hugged most of my body quite tightly. Where it flared out at the bottom, it flared in hundreds of tiny, crisp, knife pleats. And the bodice was covered in intricate, swirling patterns of tiny, colorful jewels. Swarovzki crystals, if I wasn't mistaken.

I blinked in confusion—another thing I didn't have to do anymore. And then stared for another long moment at the fabric covering my body.

I definitely hadn't been wearing this dress prior to my transformation. I had been wearing ordinary blue jeans, and a non-descript button-down shirt—which Aro had ripped in half, and had gotten rather wrinkled and soaked in sweat over the last few days. And I could not recall the dress being put on me. But nor could I recall any gaps in my memory.

This conundrum left me puzzled.  _Maybe sometime in the middle of the pain, I blacked out for a second?_ I pondered.  _Such a short time that I didn't even notice someone changing my clothes?_

I furrowed my brows. There was only one person who could take advantage of something like that.  _Alice._ Since she would know my lack of consciousness was coming.

And I frowned as I realized it would be  _so_ like her to use an opportune moment to slip me into something high fashion. She'd always hated my lack of personal style. And probably wanted to start of my immortality on a fashion-forward foot.

I felt the urge to sigh.  _Couldn't I get dressed up later?_  I reasoned, bewildered by Alice's peculiar timing.

There was so much I wanted to explore with my new senses. Much of which I was certain would not be advisable in a very restricting, very fragile, multi-thousand dollar dress.

It would have to go.

Or so I had thought. As I looked around, I noticed there were no other clothing options available to me. Alice had tactfully removed my previous clothes from the room and probably burned them.

So reluctantly, I conceded that it would have to stay on for a while longer. Because I definitely wasn't going to traipse around the Volturi fortress in nothing but my underwear.

At least she hadn't tricked me into wearing high heels. I thought it was a bit uncharacteristic of her, to leave my feet bare. Especially when she'd gone to such lengths to doll up the rest of me.  _Where were the lethally high stilettos?_

But I was more grateful than astonished. Alice probably knew, as well as I did, that I didn't need to be wobbling around like a lunatic when Aro got here.

Plus, pleasantly warm, powdery stones beneath my unencumbered feet felt amazing. I hummed softly, relishing the sensation. And it was then that I realized that shoes were actually completely an aesthetic choice for vampires. Because with such impenetrable feet, no rocks or thorns or gritty pavement could hurt them.

I flitted around them room, trying savor the feeling. Though it was difficult with how quick I was moving. And as I paced, my movements jittery and fast, I idly wondered why the Volturi even bothered to wear shoes at all. Because I was certain wearing shoes would damper this great feeling.

I knew when they were outside, of course, it was to blend in better. Humans, after all, would find it strange if they didn't wear shoes. But within these walls, away from prying eyes…?

 _Maybe the Volturi wore shoes to keep them focused?_ I considered.

The sensation  _was_ rather distracting. Of course, _everything_  about being a vampire was. Everything was more powerful—not just my senses, but my emotions too. And Edward had been right about it being disorienting. Everything looked and felt and smelled so different. And it was all so  _vivid._ My mind was having a hard time choosing what to hone in on.

I felt suddenly overwhelmed—a feeling so powerful it nearly knocked me off my feet. Then, while my eyes flicked anxiously, searching for someone, anyone to help me through all the confusion and curiosity, I caught a glint of silver in my peripheral. And it halted me abruptly in my tracks.

The glint of silver turned out to be a full-length mirror, standing opposite from the room's exit. I felt a powerful sense of trepidation join my confusion and curiosity.  _What would I look like?_

I wanted to approach the mirror slowly, so I could give myself time to prepare myself. But my new body wasn't cooperating. As soon as I thought about moving, I was standing next to the mirror. And I paused to stare at perfection.

My first reaction was unthinking pleasure. The woman standing on the other side of the long, slender glass pane was every bit as beautiful as Alice, or Esme. She was fluid even in stillness. She had flawless alabaster skin. Big eyes framed with thick, dark lashes. Lovely glossy nails. Lustrous, mahogany tresses. Plump pink lips absent of any chapping or nervous chew-marks. And teeth so blindingly white she could convince anyone to buy her brand of toothpaste in a heartbeat.

But my second reaction was horror.  _Who was she?_

I couldn't find my face anywhere in the smooth, perfect planes of her features. There weren't enough of my old imperfections left to identify me. My smaller lower lip had filled out to match the one above it. My left eyebrow, which had always been a little higher than my right, was now even with the other. And my nose was even fractionally smaller, to fit better with the proportions of my face.

It made me feel like I'd been given a body that belonged to someone else. The body of an alien. And that was not a comfortable feeling. So I searched and searched the woman in my reflection for something—anything—that might be recognizable. Anything that might be less than perfect.

The vibrant crimson irises were a bit startling. Even though I'd known to expect them. But they didn't detract as much as I thought they would. Didn't stop making the woman on the other side of the glass look like the portrait of a goddess. Didn't make her look any more like me.

I felt a wave of disappointment crash over me like a tsunami. But I was determined to keep looking. To keep searching for even the most vestigial trace of my familiar human face….

At least, until I was interrupted by a flash of sudden heat in my throat. It wasn't yet strong enough to be called "painful." And it was more dry than fiery. But it frightened me all the same.

I knew that feeling all too well from Carlisle's memories. Already, my newborn neck was flaring up with the beginnings of thirst.

 _Oh no… not this,_ I thought, immediately panicking.

My brain worked quicker now as a vampire. And instantly, it projected painfully clear images from Carlisle's and Aro's memories. Images of the savage things I might be compelled to do once the pain fully set in.

 _No! Make it stop!_  I begged my own body as the fire in my esophagus sweltered hotter.

I hissed sharply in pain. And scraped at the hard skin of my neck with my hand as if my thirst was an itch I could scratch. And not something that had to be quenched.

_I need more time to prepare for this… I can't kill now!_

But just after I processed this thought, another thought from a much darker part of my new mind surfaced. And I felt the urge to shudder as its cruel, animalistic voice echoed inside me.

_Is it really going to make a difference if you kill now, or later?_

I looked down fearfully at my inhuman hands. Then cast a wary glance at my scary, red-eyed reflection.

 _Would it really make a difference?_ I pondered as the alien in the mirror stared hungrily back at me.  _I am a vampire now. And vampires must consume humans._ _That is what I must do,_ I reminded myself firmly. _That is what the world needs. Or else…_

Skyscrapers burned in my vision. And the desperate cries of hundreds of dying vampires rang soundly in my ears.

The alien in the mirror balled her white hands into tight fists. And gritted her sharp, pearly teeth.  _They are counting on me to be their savior._

I tried to be okay with that. To assuage my guilty conscience with numbers. But the thirst flared hotter then, forcing a guttural cry of distress to escape my lips. And suddenly the fate of the world seemed wholly inconsequential. Nothing mattered except getting this pain to stop.

My oh-so-helpful instincts were quick to supply visual aids. Step-by step instructions that outlined exactly what I needed to do to alleviate my suffering.

But I already knew  _that._ Unlike Carlisle, there was no confusion in my mind over what I was craving. And so there really was no need to bombard my brain with picture after picture of my new, alien body attacking and draining some hapless mortal.

Of course, that didn't stop my brain from doing it anyway. And as the pictures grew increasingly gory, I expected to feel my stomach perform a queasy flip-flop. But instead, I felt my teeth ooze with venom. And my whole body thrum with anticipation.

_Looks like Aro was right. My queasiness at the sight of blood is gone._

I couldn't bring myself to be entirely happy about that. After all, wasn't it  _natural_ to feel sick at the idea of murder? Or at least  _right_  to be appalled by it?

Even though I had committed myself to drinking human blood, I despised the notion of becoming completely inhuman. I still wanted to feel  _something_ when I killed. Something besides pleasure, that is. Maybe even something like what Aro felt—a solemn gratitude.

I didn't want to go too far, of course, and end up like Carlisle. Wasting away slowly because he couldn't stomach hunting as nature intended. And only surviving because of the intervention of others.

But I also had no desire to end up like Caius. I shuddered thinking about how  _thrilled_ he'd been to elicit fear in his victims. And how long he'd drawn out his meal, just to relish in their terror.

 _Is there a nice middle ground somewhere?_  I wondered.

But before I could really go anywhere with that thought, a very small noise registered in my ears. It was tiny—quieter even than the soft licking of flames, whispering of smoke, and occasional pop of sparks, coming from the candles. Though it soon grew louder. And louder. Like it was approaching.

When it got close enough, I realized it was the sound of footsteps. They echoed crisply in some distant hallway. There were five pairs of them. And one of them—I guessed Alice—was wearing seven-inch stilettos that clacked, rather than thudded when they struck the floor.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes when I heard this. I knew that vampires were incapable of getting sore feet. And that Alice was so petite—4' 10"—that heels of such a height wouldn't make her tower over everyone else. But I was a little worried that Alice's insistence on looking runway-ready at every possible moment might get in the way of more pressing matters.

_Would she really go to battle with the rest of us in Gucci and Prada?_

This thought was jarringly cut off with a piercing burn in my dry mouth. A burn which caused me to reflexively cry out.

The approaching footsteps suddenly picked up their pace. I guess they must have heard my cry. And were rushing to my rescue.

As the sounds swelled, I could hear thick, velvety fabric rustling, with each movement—the sound of cloaks brushing against each other. And in the same instant, my nose was greeted with a flurry of new smells.

My first impression was that a bouquet was headed this way. The scents of the approaching vampires were all very pleasant, in a floral, sort of way. But the smell was a little too sweet. Like honey. And…  _bright?_ Like sunshine?

I took a big whiff of the air, to get a better reading. And suddenly all five scents separated from one another.

Caius' scent was the sharpest. I recognized it automatically from Aro's memories. Something like lemon and clove. At least, that was my best approximation.

In contrast, the softest scent in the group was probably Renata's. She smelled almost like vanilla and leather. And that was another scent I recognized from Aro's memories. It featured heavily in them, since she served as one of his personal bodyguards.

The next smell I was the most familiar with—Aro's own scent. He smelled spicy and woody. Like cinnamon and pine.

Then there was another, less familiar, but still recognizable scent—Felix's smell. He smelled earthy and warm. Like juniper and sandalwood.

And there was one smell among the group I didn't know from Aro's memories, which must be Alice's scent. It was fresh and perky. Like cedar and mint.

While I marveled for a moment at how precise my new nose was, a low murmur sent one of the pairs of feet—not Alice—dashing away in some unknown direction. And the rest of the rapid footsteps continued to swell louder, closer. Until suddenly the group was just on the other side of the aging wooden door.

A nimble hand—Aro's—reached out to grasp at the door's brass handle. I heard it twist. Then, with a gentle push, the ancient oak swung open on its creaky brass hinges. And a line of black cloaks and eager crimson eyes fell into my line of sight.

In theory, I recognized everyone. Aro stood in the center of the line, with Renata and Caius flanking his sides. And Alice lingered near Renata, almost—but not quite—overlapping her in competition for who got to stand nearest to Aro.

But in practice, I swore I had never seen any of them before this second. With the limiting weakness of humanity taken off my eyes, I could see so much more.  _More perfection._  Something I had hitherto thought impossible.

I gasped as I drank in their flawless immortal features. And then struggled with my vocabulary, unable to find the right words.

While I stared, I wondered where Felix had gone—I was sure I had smelled him earlier. And the brows of everyone in the group crumpled with concern. They seemed to think something was amiss with my expression. So I tried schooling it into a friendly mask. But the pain in my throat was too sharp for my features to fully cooperate. And I ended up scowling instead.

Noticing my discomfort, Aro spoke first, his voice low and soothing. "Isabella?"

I could not answer immediately, lost as I was in the velvet folds of his voice. Feathers didn't even begin to describe it. The depth and softness of his voice was unparalleled. It was a whisper, and a symphony all at once.

"Isabella, my dear…?" he asked again in the same, melodious tone, "I am sorry, I know it can be disorienting at first. But you are alright. Everything is fine."

_Everything?_

My mind spun out, spiraling back to my last human hour. Already the memory seemed dim. Like I was watching through a thick, dark veil. Because my human eyes had been half-blind. And everything had been so blurred.

But through the haze, I recalled Alice's dire predictions. And wondered if the outcome of the upcoming battle in Seattle was included in Aro's everything.  _Could she already see our success guaranteed? Or were there still too many variables? Too many opportunities for me to fail?_

"I… I look okay?"

That didn't quite come out right. I'd meant to ask if my future looked okay. But the sound that passed my lips was so foreign that it tied my tongue. It sounded like singing. And it rang and shimmered like bell.

 _Was that… was that_ _**my** _ _voice?_

"My  _dear_  Isabella…" Aro breathed, his voice caressing every syllable of my name. "You look  _magnificent._ Immortality suits you…" he appraised.

His eyes hovered over me for a moment. They lingered on my sculpted collarbones. And then on my vivid crimson eyes.

"And that dress…" he trailed off, directing a meaningful gaze at Alice, "…is exquisite on her. Truly an excellent choice, Alice."

Alice flashed a dazzling smile. A smile that shone with the same brilliance mine had in the reflection only minutes before.

It was strange to think I was like Alice in any way whatsoever, when I'd spent so long admiring her. But I guessed I would have to get used to the fact that we were the same species now.

"Thanks," she responded, chipper. And her voice too, was more musical than I remembered. "I thought with how long we've waited for this, that the event deserved a bit of commemoration."

Aro offered a gentle nod in agreement.

But I was stunned by the insinuation behind Alice's words.  _How long exactly had my transformation taken?_ Alice made it sound like she'd been waiting for  _decades._ Though I was pretty sure I hadn't been out for longer than three days.

"How long did it take?" I inquired somewhat hesitantly.

"Oh, I didn't mean  _that_ ," Alice stressed, realizing her mistake. "You only took three days," she said, confirming my suspicions. "And that's pretty standard. But I was talking about how long  _I've_ waited. How long it has been since I first saw this day."

Alice whistled—a sound like the world's best flute. And said, "Eighteen, long years."

I thought about whistling too. That was a long time to wait. A long time to know I was coming. And a long time to worry that I wouldn't agree to help in the coming confrontation.

I felt a rush of appreciation for Alice's patience, then. I wasn't sure that I would have been willing to spend nearly a whole year after finding me playing nice when the whole world was at stake.

But before I could verbally express any gratitude, the flames roasting my throat surged higher, creating white spots in my vision. And I couldn't stop myself from hissing again.

It was a menacing sound. Like a swarm of angry bees.

And instinctively, every vampire hovering outside my door stiffened.

I guessed  _I_ was the scary one now. And it did make some sense. I was the only newborn in the room, after all. The only one with superior strength.

That would take some getting used to.

I was used to being the breakable one. Not the one capable of doing the breaking.

After a short moment of hesitation, Aro floated forward, stepping into the room. He then circled behind. And as I looked back over my shoulder at him, he grinned at me maniacally.

"Thirsty, Isabella?"

Automatically, I found myself nodding in response. And I decided at once that my brain needed a new filter. There was no pause between thinking of an action, and doing it. So my impulse control was completely shot.

But before I could say anything to take back my gesture of assent, Aro raised his hand in a dramatic fashion. And snapped his fingers.

The sharp sound nearly instantaneously summoned Felix from wherever else in the castle he'd been. He flitted onto the scene in a whirl of black and red—he'd been given another cloak to replace the one Aro had gifted to Edward. And this time, he wasn't alone.

Five other nameless guards were with him, shrouded in inky cloaks. They were too close together to make out their individual scents—just an amalgam of sugary sunshine. And they were holding someone in the center of their dark mass. Someone who was wearing pale flannel, and thrashing in the prison of their arms.

I'd seen the man before, though I didn't recognize him at first.

His skin looked so different from that of my immortal companions. It was a splotchy tan. Covered in thousands of ugly little hairs that stood out sharply. And had a texture so full of imperfections—pimples and pits and wrinkles—that it was hard to believe we were even the same species.

I looked him over for a long minute, wondering what was wrong with him. Wondering why he was so horribly malformed. And as I did, I only became more confused. His nose was at least fifteen-degrees away from being straight. One of his eyes was larger than the other. And his teeth were gnarled and yellow.

The circle of cloaked vampires piled into the small room then, tugging the ugly man closer to me. And in the next moment, Caius, Renata, and Alice, floated into the room behind the circle of cloaked figures.

They paused, just inside the door. But the dark circle in front of them kept moving forward. Moving closer to me. And as they approached with the malformed man in tow, I heard a loud, thumping sound echoing from somewhere deep in his chest.

It hit me suddenly.  _We_ _ **weren't**_ _the same species._

This man was  _human._ The sole surviving human from the recent feast.

And, though I struggled to see it, I guessed that was simply what humans looked like to me now. Imperfect. Asymmetrical.  _Hideous._

I felt something sour build in my heart then. If there had been any doubt before, now I was  _sure_ Edward had been lying to me. There was no way he could have loved me if I used to look anything like  _that._

But that thought died abruptly when I saw past the man's ugliness, and realized what he was doing. He was struggling pitifully in his captors' arms. Kicking the vampires in the shins. Pounding on Felix's tree-trunk-like forearms with his fists. And wriggling around, like worm being electrocuted, in a futile attempt to escape.

Initially I was mortified at the sight. The man looked so helpless and pitiable. And Felix and the others were ignoring him completely. As if the man's hardest kicks and punches were nothing.

But as I watched, I made the mistake of inhaling. It was a hard habit to break. And the scent emanating from beneath the human's skin was suddenly overwhelming.

I lurched forward instinctively.

Then I shook myself, grimaced, and forced myself to stagger back.

 _I can't do this!_ I realized with sudden panic. _Three days ago I was just like him!_

Caius raised a surprised, snowy eyebrow at my reaction. Clearly he hadn't expected me to be able to resist my instincts.

And I had to admit I was a little surprised myself. The smell emanating from the man was absolutely  _mouthwatering._ But maybe the resolve I had experienced in Carlisle's memories was rubbing off on me a little.

"You agreed to this, did you not, Isabella?" Aro prompted gently, his voice whispering tantalizingly from behind.

I had. But that didn't make it any easier.

I fixed my eyes pointedly at the floor so I wouldn't see the man's taut veins. Tried shutting my ears without plugging them, to block out the tempting sound of his racing heart. And fiercely gritted my teeth in order to avoid advancing forward.

 _Damn it, why do I have to be the "chosen one" in Alice's vision?_ I silently lamented.  _Why can't it be him instead?_

I would let that man eat me in a heartbeat, if those were the circumstances. After all what value was there in  _my_  life over thousands? Or even millions?

But fate wasn't so kind to me. Of course  _I_ had to be the murderer. And not the  _murdered._

"Go on…  _feed_. You must be famished," Aro encouraged with a lulling, downy voice.

His words made the venom accumulate on my tongue even faster. It was dribbling down the sides of my chin now, instead of only clinging to my teeth. And that made straining against my instincts twice as hard.

 _I am famished…_  I admitted to myself, licking away the gooey streams of liquid sliding past my lips.  _And I did agree to this._

I let that thought sink in for a moment. Let it wash away my scruples.

My vision quickly grew hazier, as I gave in to my instincts. And it filled with red.

But before I could think of moving forward again, I realized there was another problem besides morality. There was still the issue of  _how_.

Sure, I had watched other vampires feed. So I knew the  _theory_. But wrapping my own head (or in this case, teeth) around the matter was something else entirely. And I really had no desire to look like an idiot. Especially when Alice had dressed me up so nicely for the occasion.

While I struggled to come up with a plan, the human started loudly begging for Felix and the others to let him go. The poor man had seen too much carnage in the turret room already to not know what he was in for. So of course he would do anything to be free.

But his pleas weren't helping me reconsider my hesitancy to kill him.

"Silence you pathetic fool!" Caius hissed, seeing my distress. "You should be honored to be chosen for his."

The man didn't look convinced in the slightest. But Caius' fierce glare did silence him. I guessed he was worried that his fate would be even worse if he didn't comply.

Once the man was quiet, Caius flickered a meaningful glance in my direction. One which clearly said  _get on with it_.

I swallowed. And slowly, reluctantly, began to make my approach.

The man remained silent as I floated closer, the taffeta of my dress whispering against the stones. Though his eyes kept flickering around, looking for a door—an escape. And his whole body, drenched with nervous sweat, shook violently.

When I reached him, a lot faster than I'd been planning to, since I had to force myself to slow down, I too was quivering. And my throat couldn't take much more waiting. But I hesitated for a moment, and fought with my thirst to think.

I wasn't sure I wanted to just bury my head into his neck. The idea of drinking from a screaming, writhing human being seemed too cruel. So I tried to think of some other way… something that wouldn't cause him so much pain.

And that was when I remembered that Aro had snapped the neck of his victim before drinking her blood. So that she would not have to endure the pain of his venom.

That seemed fairly humane. Instant death over prolonged agony.

So I decided, even though I had no experience in that realm, that breaking his neck would be my course of action.

When I made this decision, Alice's eyes suddenly grew to the size of saucers and she yelled, "Don't! Just bite him!"

Later, I guessed that she must have seen the outcome. That she knew how badly I would mess up when I lacked all finesse in managing my superhuman strength.

But at the time I wasn't listening. Still, shaking, I placed my palms as gently as I could against the slick sides of the human's head. And fought not to recoil. His skin was sticky with sweat. And jarringly hot.

At the same moment I touched the man, the cloaked circle let go, causing him to stumble, dazed, directly into my grasp. I caught him automatically. But I winced as I watched his skin turn purple where I grabbed it. And hissed when I heard his fragile wrist bone snap.

The man howled in extreme pain. And I abruptly felt awful.

_This wasn't part of the plan. I'm trying to be humane, here!_

But that was proving to be a lot harder to do than I had thought. I didn't know my new speed or my new strength. And my new  _hunger_  was even worse. So I decided then, if I didn't want to cause any more pain that I needed to make my move.

Now.

"I'm sorry," I breathed in the human's ear. Though I knew it was hardly any consolation.

And I didn't give him any time to process what my words meant. In a minute attempt to be merciful, I grasped both sides of the man's head and…

…tore his head clean off.

Blood gushed everywhere, spraying in a wide fountain from the man's severed neck. It splashed all over the ancient stone walls. Onto the dusty floor. All over my expensive dress. And in the startled faces of all the vampires present.

Panicking, I frantically tried to contain the mess. I clamped my mouth over the place where the man's head used to be. And once my lips were firmly covering the wound, I started sucking.

The man's blood was scalding hot as it poured down my throat. But paradoxically it was a soothing balm to the blazing thirst raging in my throat. And the taste was exquisite. Salty with a bitter coppery edge. Though also a tiny bit sweet. Like liquid salted-caramel dark chocolate.

I tried to savor it. But initially the blood was rushing into my stomach too fast to allow that.

Soon enough, though, without a brain to keep it going, the man's heart fluttered to a complete stop. And the ejection rate of his inner fluids slowed. Allowing me to slurp from the no-longer-spurting wound at my own, leisurely pace.

 _Mmmmm… this is amazing…_ I thought hazily, basking in the experience of my first feed.

I loved the feel of my lips curled around his balmy skin. The sound of his blood pouring wonderfully into my body. The smell of shared excitement coming from the others. And the taste— _oh the taste_!

Now I finally understood what Edward and Aro had been raving about all this time. As a virgin I really lacked proper perspective. But I was definitely starting to believe the claim that vampires enjoyed this more than sex. It felt mind-blowingly good.

I spent a long time, completely blissed-out while I drank. But eventually, I realized that my avid attentions to the man's neck weren't producing any more blood. That I could slurp all I wanted, and I wasn't going to get any more of the amazing liquid.

It seemed every last drop had exited his body—either through my mouth or by spraying all over the place. And thus my meal was finished.

In the end, I was able to gulp down most of the man's remaining blood. And I was pleased that I had avoided total waste. But some of it had still sprayed past me, when it had been spurting out of the man's body at a ridiculous speed. And that blood now coated my pale shoulders, and the shocked visages of my onlookers.

Instinctively, I drew back from my kill. And watched in a pleasure-filled haze as his headless form crumpled unceremoniously to the ground.

I tried to look down at the body as it fell. But before I could even turn, I felt an incredible tidal wave of pressure building up in my chest. A pressure which forced me to arch my back. And throw back my head in a sudden, jerky motion.

There was nothing voluntary about it. It was pure instinct. With a sudden jolt, my stagnant heart flared to life for a single, reverberating beat. And its pulse sent a good portion—though not all—of the blood that had accumulated in my stomach rushing out into the rest of me.

The blood flared through my normally dry veins and capillaries, sending a buzz of electric energy through my system in its wake. And then the blood absorbed into every crystalline cell of my body.

The sensation was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I felt like every cell in my body had become a live wire. And it was accompanied with a heady outpouring of endorphins. Two things which combined to create the ultimate high.

Or at least, that's what I thought. I had never really dabbled with drugs. So I really had no comparison.

But still, I was unshakably certain that this feeling—this livening of my entire body—transcended everything else.

And I couldn't help but moan in satisfaction— _loudly_.

The sound was not safe for work. And it nearly drowned out everything else. But only nearly.

Vaguely, over my own cries of pleasure, I heard a softer, much more PG sound. The sound of Aro gasping in delight. I guessed he must be experiencing some kind of second-hand excitement.  _Maybe he was simply happy that I was happy?_  I couldn't be sure what he was feeling. But I was too distracted by my blood-high to care.

In a word, what I was experiencing was Heaven.

And I never wanted it to stop.

…

I was soaring on cloud-nine for a while. But as the dusty candlelit room around slowly hazed back into focus, my feeding-induced ecstasy was gradually appended with a profound feeling of embarrassment.

 _Embarrassment?_  The feeling surprised me.  _Guilt_ , I had assumed would be the first emotion to resurface once my rational capacities returned. But I was simultaneously thrilled and disgusted with myself that I felt nothing of the sort.

At least, not right away.

As I straightened from my arched position, and lowered my gaze to the floor—two actions that were completed in fractions of a second—I saw a headless body. It lied awkwardly slumped amidst splatters of its own blood. And I noticed that the skin and muscles around its neck were stretched and raggedly torn. Like a disgusting combination of pulled taffy and cottage cheese.

This grossed me out enough to make me quickly avert my eyes. But bizarrely there wasn't a trace of remorse for his slaughter in my entire being. Mostly, I felt a little dazed. Still caught in the tail-end of a happy stupor. And very self-conscious about the enormous mess I had made.

Aro would be livid, I was sure of it. He despised wastefulness, especially when human sacrifice was involved. And ironically, in trying to emulate him, I had carelessly squandered half of a perfectly delicious meal. By spilling it all over the dusty walls and floor.

I was deeply ashamed of myself. I felt like I had abused Aro's generosity by making such a flagrant mistake in estimating my strength. And in my acute humiliation I wasn't yet willing to meet his disapproving gaze. Or that of anyone else, really.

I directed my sharp eyes away from the corpse. And away from the huddle of pitch black cloaks beyond it. Nor did I dare look over my shoulder at Aro.

Instead, I stared at the puddle of blood resting just beneath the pleats of my dress. And as I peered at its murkily reflective surface, I inwardly berated myself for assuming that snapping necks was a simple endeavor.

I'd never done it as a human. And I had no training on how to control this new, savagely powerful body. So why did I think it was going to be easy?

I groaned.  _I've made an enormous fool of myself. I was just trying to be nice. But I should have just bit him like everyone else. And dealt with the screaming…_ I lectured myself mercilessly.

Then the bliss waned further, giving me more room to think.

_None of the other Volturi seem to mind—it's just Aro. And that's probably just because he can feel their pain. Not because he has any real sympathy._

I frowned.

 _Really, I need to get a grip and just put up with it. Drinking from a twitching, howling person can't be too bad can it?_  I tried to convince myself.

But it wasn't really very effective. The idea resonated unharmoniously in my compassionate heart. The thought of combining the exhilarating ecstasy I had just felt with the ongoing agony of another being felt like a horribly cruel thing to do. And made me cringe in discomfort.

And my discomfort only increased when I felt the delight of my recent feed completely dissipate. Then slowly, with all the bliss gone from my body, it began to dawn on me what had happened. What I had really done.

A person—a fellow sentient being—was dead because of me. Their whole future had been literally ripped away from them in one last, vicious moment of reckless hunger.

I had killed that man for his blood. Slaughtered him like an animal. With my bare hands.

All because of a little thirst.

For the last few moments, I guess the reward-center of my brain had still been so wrapped up in the sheer awesomeness of my meal that it had been impossible to mourn. But now that the buzz had finally worn off, I abruptly began to understand what Aro had meant before.

He said that taking a human life would not suddenly become easy. That I wouldn't suddenly feel no remorse simply because I was no longer human myself. And I was starting to believe that.

A heavy, rotten, sludge-like feeling gurgled in my stomach. And very rapidly the self-consciousness I felt seemed childish and irrelevant.

Fear was the next thing I felt after the embarrassment. A fear of the stickiness drying in a thin film to my chilled, hard skin. A fear of feeling gleeful about carnage. And a fear of what ghastliness I would see when I looked in the mirror again.

I was still staring into the glossy scarlet puddle resting at the edge of my ruffled dress. But now I was afraid of what I might find in my grimy reflection. So my vibrant ruby eyes suddenly darted upwards _._

I would much rather face the scrutiny of the Volturi than myself right now.

However as my eyes settled over their figures again I was surprised at what I saw. I had expected to see a certain degree of dissatisfaction on their pale, crystalline faces. But rather than being faced with frustration, disgust or malice—the emotions I'd been expecting—the expressions of the other ten vampires in the room were simply blank.

Their red-spattered faces betrayed absolutely none of their true feelings. Except perhaps pure shock.

For a few minutes all the vampires in the room kept staring intensely at me in stunned silence. And their unreadable, unrelenting gazes were making me very nervous _._

_Were they proud of me for taking this first step?_

_Angry that I had clumsily caused a ridiculous, wasteful mess?_

_Upset that I had ruined a very expensive article of clothing by soaking it in blood?_

_Did I fail some kind of secret vampire litmus-test?_

_What?_

I kept waiting for some kind of signal. Some movement or speech to disrupt the heavy cloud of silence that hung over the room. But the two circles of vampires in front of me, and the lone vampire behind didn't budge a single millimeter. Nor did any of them blink.

It was starting to get creepy.

I opened my bloodstained lips to speak. But just as words were about to leave my tongue, there was a sudden flicker of movement in the ten crimson pairs of eyes. They all looked down towards my right hand. And their glances were accompanied by a disgusted expression. As though there was something unsettling there to look at.

Abruptly shutting my mouth, I decided to examine whatever it was. Whatever the frozen-stiff entourage of vampires was staring at.

I trailed my tack-sharp eyesight down the smooth length of my arm. And as I followed the blood-smeared skin down, I gradually became more aware of that portion of my body.

Suddenly, I felt a matted patch of wet hair tangled between my curled fingers. And when I looked down at them, my eyes settled on the object of everyone's unnerved attention.

It was the most horrific sight imaginable.

Dangling limply in my grasp was the man's severed head. His face was frozen in contorted pain. And the jagged skin on his neck was still dripping with wasted blood.

I shrieked. And immediately dropped the offending head. Which landed in a puddle of blood with a dull splash.

Then I scampered backwards. And pressed myself against the far wall behind the bed. So I could get as far away from it as I possibly could.

_Oh my god, I was holding his head! His not-attached, dripping head! That's so nasty!_

Now I was pretty sure I was going to vomit. This was just too much.

But before I had the chance to heave in disgust, a startling sound broke me out of my thoughts.

Aro was laughing. And not just a little chuckle either—he was cackling like a deranged old witch from those old cartoons.

Apparently he found my predicament hilarious.

I, of course, begged to differ—it was terrifying! A  _human head_  in my hand! A human head in  _my hand_!

Nothing seemed to be able to banish that awful, grisly image out of my mind. And that traumatic visual was apparently the only key needed to unlock the full force of my crushing guilt.

A soft, broken moan of anguish left my lips. And my eyes stung with rapidly accumulating venom.

 _I am a monster,_ I despaired.  _I am a murderer, a demon_ …

I held my filthy, bloodstained hands as far away from my body as I possibly could. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. Not after one of them had gripped something so ghastly.

But despite my sudden descent into deep self-loathing, Aro continued to laugh behind me.

I whirled to face him, intent on seeing what was so funny. And watched with cold disapproval as his chest heaved and his whole body rocked unstably with the effort.

Soon, everyone in the general vicinity was staring fearfully at him, rather than at me. And I guessed they were wondering what the hell was wrong with him. What made him have such a seriously twisted sense of humor….

Caius in particular looked disturbed by his "brother's" ill-fitting outburst. And watched with extreme wariness as Aro pitched back and forth, with an eerily wide grin on his face, his long black hair sailing madly around him.

Renata and Felix exchanged worried glances. And Felix's five lackeys shuffled uncomfortably as they viewed the startling scene.

Alice was the only one who didn't seem to be visibly upset by Aro's reaction. She looked on his blood-splattered, guffawing visage with an unruffled, passive interest. And I was starting to wonder if she was ever surprised by anything. Probably not, seeing as she could see the future….

"Such incredible strength!" Aro exclaimed between chortles. "To remove his head without meaning to!"

I frowned—it wasn't funny! It was gruesome and cruel.  _I_  had been the one to do it. And worse yet, I had  _liked it._

Maybe not the actual head-ripping part itself so much. But I had taken such profound pleasure in what followed. I'd guzzled away at that man's neck so callously…

It was an affront to every vestige of humanity I still possessed. It went against everything that I had once, and still hoped to stand for. It made me feel cold… sociopathic…  _inhuman._

Thinking about what I had done made my eyes fill with fluid. The fluid was thick, gooey and white. And it quickly obscured everything in my vision.

Because vampires were physically unable to cry, though, not a single drop of this fluid spilled over my flawless cheeks. The venom-tears remained trapped inside my eyes. And I was surprised to find that, without any proper outlet, it physically hurt to be brimming with them.

Of course, the pulsing, stinging in my eyes did nothing to stop my emotional pain. And I found myself choking on a sob.

I didn't want to sound completely pathetic. After all, I was certain I would lose all credibility as vampirekind's only hope in Caius' eyes if I broke down crying over one measly human.

But the more I struggled to contain my agony, the more it seemed to slip past my defenses. And eventually I was unable to prevent myself from full-on weeping.

Well, as much as a vampire  _could_  weep, that is.

I did the vocal part of crying—that awful, warbling wailing. And I buried my face in my bloodied hands instinctively. Trying to shield myself from the harsh scrutiny of the others in the room.

Aro's laughter abruptly ceased when he heard my cries. And his voice softened in response to my increasingly louder wails of sorrow.

"You had honorable intentions, I am sure," he said reassuringly. "To be concerned for your victim's pain while your instincts are so new and strong is practically unheard of," he revealed with a tone of reverential awe.

His eyes sparkled towards the ceiling with unbridled wonder for a moment before he came back to earth. Then he drifted forward, until our bloody noses were almost touching.

His sudden closeness caused me to momentarily stop bawling. And I raised my head instantly, to stare dubiously at him.

Underneath a thick smear of blood, he looked genuinely concerned. All of his humor at my expense was gone, replaced with mournful compassion.

"I am flattered that you see my methods as worthy of imitation. But perhaps you should learn greater control before you attempt to be humane," he advised in a gentle voice before casting his gaze around the room.

I swallowed as my eyes followed his. Yeesh, what a mess. There was blood  _everywhere._

"It's a pity to see so much good sustenance wasted," he added.

But his voice only carried a tinge of mild disappointment. As though the ridiculous spill I had caused was merely a glass of spilt milk. Something which, although better avoided, was really nothing to fuss over.

I was dumbfounded by his response. Really I had expected a greater lecture about the importance of learning to feed less sloppily, given his personal conviction to avoid squandering human life when it was taken.

But as he drew back and glided gracefully around the disastrous scene, he didn't seem to care one bit about the blood seeping into the hem of his robes as they swept over the wet floor. Nor did he seem to even notice the blood that was still sprayed across his face.

This jarred me.

At least until, I remembered that Aro had been born in a more violent time. A time when war was expected, sought after, and gloried in rather than avoided like the plague. And in his many millennia since he probably had dealt with much worse.

So this room probably  _was_  spilt milk. At least, in comparison.

I tried to imagine what horrific spreads of violence he must have seen. The kind of carnage could make today's accident seem so inconsequential. But that made my head spin. And was really not helping my no-vomiting strategy.

"You're not…" I stammered in that oddly, beautiful voice. The voice that still didn't feel like mine. "… _mad_ at me?"

I found that hardest to believe.

Aro's bloody face melted with sympathy. "Of course not," he promised smoothly. "You did not do anything wrong."

Something inside me twisted in protest at that assertion.  _I hadn't done anything wrong? Nothing at all?_  Aro was totally fine with me being a messy murderer?

It seemed unthinkable. How could he not be upset?  _I_ was upset. Though, if I was being honest with myself, the  _mess_  wasn't the only part I was upset about.

Philosophizing about killing—rationalizing it in a cold, neutral environment—was one thing. A thing that made it seem really easy. But actually having done it? Actually having taken a life myself? And having errant splotches of my victim's blood still damp on my hands?

That, was another beast entirely.

It was not so simple then. Saying to myself that it was "only natural" solved nothing. Nor did saying that I "shouldn't be held accountable for merely trying to survive".

Because when it was  _this_ personal—when there was a dead body lying at my feet—that's when the heart got involved. And it screwed up all my beautifully crafted persuasive statements.

I had thought, after the Volturi's feast that I was ready. And that when the time came to kill that I going to be okay with this. But my heart was most definitely was  _not okay_.

Other people could be killers. And that was a pill I could reluctantly swallow. But me?

_Bella the killer? Was that who I was now?_

Attaching the moniker to myself made me feel slimy—alien.

 _No way,_   _I can't be that!_ I internally protested.

My darkly reddened hands, however, told another story.

"Have you drank your fill?" Aro asked, interrupting my thoughts.

He asked the question as if it were utterly mundane. Like he was simply asking if I wanted him to pass me the mashed potatoes or something.

His casual inquiry about something so momentous shook me. And I quickly glanced away from him so that he wouldn't see the venom shining in my eyes again.

I realized then that yes, I was satisfied physically. But oh what an awful thing I had done to get there….

"I am certain that Felix could..." Aro paused, searching for the most delicate wording, "...fetch you another if you are still thirsty," he offered politely.

Aro gestured towards his bulky guard. And Felix nodded stoically in affirmation that indeed he could do precisely that. All I had to do was ask.

I stroked my neck gingerly in search of any lingering fire. And strained to forget the image of the detached head from my mind. But as I did so a horrible epiphany struck me.

 _Hunting in the city is forbidden. So where are they going to get this other person from?_ I wondered.

I was perplexed by an offer that I failed to see how Aro could deliver on.

I didn't really want him to deliver. I think I had stomached enough death for one day. But my insatiable curiosity got the better of me once again.

"But wasn't that the last person Heidi brought…?" I started to say.

"Ah, but we have maids. And secretaries…" Aro reminded me with a contorted smile.

I shivered as I realized what he meant. If Aro's memories of feeding Carlisle his servants were any indication, apparently the humans that the Volturi employed were the "emergency supply" of blood. The people Aro would kill if Heidi failed to bring enough food to the table.

I remembered Gianna, the receptionist, then. And the idea of drinking her blood actually churned my stomach.

 _Maybe I'm not a complete monster after all,_ I thought as I registered the familiar sensation.

Like an idiot, I initially thought my nausea was a good thing. A sign that I hadn't lost all my humanity. But before I knew it, I felt bile rising fast in my throat. And then I realized it was threatening to dredge up and violently expel any undigested blood lingering in my system.

_I'm… I'm going to throw up?_

I didn't know vampires could do that. At least, Aro had made it seem impossible.

But here I was, doubling over and clutching my chest, ready to cough it all up. Ready to waste more blood. Ready to lose all of my nutritional progress. And force myself to have to kill someone else.

I felt awful at the prospect. I didn't need to be any  _more_  wasteful today. But I just couldn't seem to get my constricting stomach under control. The more I thought about how terrible of person I was, the higher bile leapt in my throat, until I was tasting it. And the more I dwelt on my new identity as a coldhearted killer, the harder it became to choke it back.

Thankfully, Alice intervened before anything actually happened. Seeing with her extra sense that I was close to retching violently, she grabbed me by the wrist. And dragged me forcefully towards the door.

"Nope, she's definitely full," Alice supplied in my stead, without any room for argument. "Let's keep it that way, shall we?"

She rapidly led me away from the nausea-triggering scene of my first kill into the ancient stone corridor. We moved swiftly down the old empty hall. Until we were a fair distance away from the disaster zone.

Only then did Alice stop. And she turned to me with a look of genuine, sisterly worry in her bright red eyes.

"Are you alright, Bella?"

It wasn't until her question however that I realized that I was clutching my stomach. Visibly trembling. And scratching hatefully at my own skin. Like I wanted to tear it off.

I didn't dare let go of my stomach—I needed to hold my gory lunch down come hell or high water. I did  _not_ want to be forced to kill anyone else today.

But I did pause in my guilty itching. And stilled my disturbed shaking. Then nodded numbly in response, even though I most definitely was not okay.

Alice looked wholly unconvinced. But said nothing.

After an awkward moment, Alice started walking again, and gestured for me to follow. I went with her without hesitation, figuring she knew best. And she offered a silent shoulder of support as she led me through the torchlit, sienna halls.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is it, the end of part one! I should be back with part 2 in a few months. Wish me luck!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: RECOVERY

…

_I met the girl's stare for a long moment._

_Chin-length dark hair framed her face, which was alabaster pale._

_It was hard to tell if her features were beautiful, twisted as they were by rage and thirst._

_The feral red eyes were dominant—hard to look away from._

_She glared at me viciously, shuddering and writhing every few seconds._

_I stared at her, mesmerized, wondering if I were looking into a mirror of my future._

\- Bella about Bree, Eclipse, Chapter 25

…

I didn't  _feel_ like I was running. And neither was Alice. We were both walking through the long, stone hallways, with her slightly ahead of me—albeit at a speed no human could match. And as we moved swiftly towards some unknown destination, I tried to stay calm. To banish the gory flashbacks that were bombarding my guilt-ridden mind. But nothing was really working.

And that was scaring me a bit. Because the more I remembered the awful things I had done, the more my nausea acted up. And the more it threatened to expunge all the blood that wasn't fully digested from my meal just yet.

Which, granted, wasn't a lot. I knew from Aro's memories that most of the blood a vampire drank digested almost instantly—seeping into the cells when the heart flared to life.

But not all of it did. About a third stayed behind in liquid form. And it took about an hour for that third to settle fully in to the tissues. An hour during which my cheeks would be flushed. And my stomach would be susceptible to losing its contents.

Which would be very bad. Because I needed that blood to remain sated. I wasn't sure how I knew—my new instincts were still foreign to me—but I was  _certain_ vomiting would necessitate a repeat of today's violent activities. And to be forced to feed again so soon….

…That would be the ultimate disaster. I really didn't think that my fragile sanity could handle causing  _two_  human deaths in one day.

I tried not to think too hard about that as Alice and I moved, supernaturally fast, through a maze of identical looking hallways. Instead, as we progressed rapidly towards some unknown destination, I clutched my stomach. And made every effort to relax.

Alice glanced at me warily now and then, while we navigated the halls. And I could tell that my nausea confused her. That she wanted to ask why I was different than every other vampire in this regard. That she wanted to know why I had brought this particular human trait with me.

I was glad she didn't ask, because I didn't know. And even if I did, talking was completely out of the question. If I dared to open my mouth, I feared that my recent meal would come pouring out.

So rather than strike up a riveting conversation with Alice, we strode very fast together in perfect silence. Except for the echoing  _clack-clack_ of her inky black stilettos. And I was content to keep it that way.

There wasn't really anything that could be said anyway. At least not anything that would make things better, rather than worse.

…

I wasn't paying any attention to our surroundings as Alice guided me through the dusty stone hallways. I was too shell-shocked by recent events for that. But I trusted her to lead me somewhere safe in this labyrinth of a castle. Somewhere where I could hopefully escape (at least for a while) the horrible reality of what I had become.

At some point in our journey, though, I started shaking. And the bloody fingers clutching my stomach frittered away from the fabric of my soiled dress.

This worried Alice. "Bella, don't worry about the dress," she cut in unexpectedly, her voice barely above a whisper, "I knew it was going to be ruined anyway," came her chipper reassurance. "I just wanted your first appearance as one of us to be special, that's all."

"Oh… okay." I muttered lamely, my dirty hands flying back to my stained stomach.

I wasn't really thinking about the dress at the moment. Sure it was a disaster, I knew that from just looking at it, ruffles all askew and smeared in blood. But with Alice's financial prowess—she was a stock market  _queen_ —I figured she saw pretty much every article of clothing as disposable, no matter how costly.

I disagreed with that philosophy on principle. To buy something so expensive with the express intention of destroying it seemed offensively frivolous. But the dress wasn't even spilt milk compared to my excessive wasting of blood.

And it was the blood—so much blood—soaked into my clothes and caked onto my skin that was bothering me right now.

"Can I take a shower? I asked.

I curled my sticky fingers into discomfited fists. And twitched my red-spattered shoulders uncomfortably.

_I need to get all of this disgusting stuff off of me. As soon as possible._

"And you know… get something else to wear?" I added, looking down at myself distastefully.

I looked like something straight out of a horror movie. And that made me very self-conscious. My new identity as a killer was hard enough to deal with as it was. I didn't need to walk around for the rest of the day looking like a walking murder scene.

Alice pulled me up a narrow, winding staircase then, "Sure, I stocked your closet," she replied casually.

She whisked me into a bright, freshly scented room just at the top of the stairs. It was huge, like a king's master bedroom. The stone walls had been recently painted a pale cream—I could still catch a faint whiff of the paint fumes. The floor was carpeted—lush, and black. And, unlike most of the castle, it seemed like this room had been updated for the 21st century, complete with electric lights, light switches and power outlets.

The room, unlike so many others in this place, wasn't lacking in furniture. A large four-poster bed carved in ebony, and draped in dark purple sat in the center against the back wall. Two matching bedside tables sat on either side, bearing tall lamps on top, and assorted linens in the shelves below. An ornate vanity, that held troves of makeup and jewelry in its drawers, sat off to the right of the bed. And full-length mirror—which I avoided like the plague—sat to its left. .

I paused to marvel at my new room for a moment. And I wondered if Alice had done all of this updating during the three days I had spent burning. Or if she'd been preparing this room for me for a long time.

I almost turned to ask her. But then, something else caught my attention.

Opposite the bed was the most enormous walk-in closet I had ever seen. It was basically a garage. And it was filled to the bursting point with an entirely new, Alice-approved wardrobe.

"There are plenty of jeans in there, don't worry," Alice assured me as my eyes hovered over the row of lavish gowns in the very front with a furrowed brow. "I know how much you hate dressing up."

I decided to give the closet another look, expecting to find a tiny corner filled with a handful of things I might actually wear. But Alice was right.

Behind a long row of satin and taffeta monstrosities in the Volturi colors—inky black, charcoal grey, blood red, bone white, metallic silver, and antique gold—was a row of jeans. They came in just as many colors. Alice had collected every fashionable cut. And there was a wide variety of fabrics present—denim, leather, cotton/poly/spandex, corduroy, chino cloth. All of which was a little beyond me.

_What am I going to do with red leather pants?_

But I appreciated Alice's effort to include my preferences all the same. The jeans—though some of them had weird acid-wash patterns, or were covered in unnecessary zippers—looked like they would be both flattering and comfortable. Which always seemed to be an impossible compromise.

I looked for a bit longer, coming across a row of tops next—most of them too frilly or glitzy for my tastes. Then there were the jackets and coats—a lot of leather there, with a bit of fur and even some python skin mixed in. And in the very back of the closet, I found some drawers and shelves inset into the wall, containing my underthings, socks, and shoes.

I scanned shoes shelves intently. Predictably, a few of the pairs I found there were ludicrously high heels—Alice's favorite kind of shoe. And there was one pair in particular—a pair of sparkly silver stilettos with towering, needle-like heels—that I vowed never to touch. But most of the shoes I found in the back of the huge closet were actually sensible, cute flats, and boots without heels.

I felt a rush of appreciation when I saw this. Overall, the wardrobe I have been given was still more Alice's style than mine—I wasn't much for designer labels and exotic fabrics. But it was obvious that Alice had made her best effort to be considerate of my fashion complaints (no heels, no dresses). And she had provided me with plenty of stylish things that I would actually wear in addition to the stuff she would obviously love to see me in.

Like that cozy, grey, over-sized sweater on the third row that was calling my name. And the snug black hoodie on the row behind it.

I felt a blossom of appreciation as I took it all in. Maybe being a vampire didn't have to be  _all_ bad.

"…Thanks…" was about all I could manage.

"No problem," Alice supplied with a painted smile.

But the brief flux of warmth I felt in my heart didn't last. After she spent a moment basking in my appreciation of her stylistic talents, Alice walked over to one of the bedside tables, and grabbed a small face towel that was resting on one of its lower shelves. She used it to wipe away the few droplets of blood that had managed to splatter across her face. And that motion, reminded me of the horror that had happened not too long ago.

The horror I had caused.

I clutched my stomach—which was threatening to heave its contents again—and tried not to think about all the blood that was still sticking to me. But of course trying not to think about something was the exact recipe for thinking about something. So I looked to Alice with pleading eyes.

She automatically knew what I wanted. "The bathtub is in there," she offered, gesturing towards an ornately carved wooden door just a few feet away. "Here." She tossed me a big, fluffy purple bath towel which matched my bedding.

I didn't need any further prompting. I felt dirty in this ruined dress. So I rushed into the adjacent bathroom without another word.

The bathroom was just as impressive as the bedroom. It was bigger than I thought was warranted for someone as insignificant as me—I wasn't one of the three Volturi kings, after all. The floors were a polished white marble. Heated towel racks lined the walls. A spotless stainless steel sink interrupted a speckled, granite countertop. And a huge, porcelain tub sat on little clawed feet in the back of the room.

I made a beeline for the tub. I was intent on taking a shower, or running a bath—whichever was easier. And since I felt a little dizzy with guilt as I clambered into the room, and I didn't see any shower head jutting out of the perfect, white tiled walls, I figured a bath was a better idea.

But I stopped short when I saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

It wasn't as large as the mirror I'd stood in front of before, or the one I'd avoided in the bedroom. Hanging above the sink, it only showed me the upper-half of my body.

But it showed me enough. Crimson eyes. Perfect porcelain skin which refracted dim rainbows under the bright white lights. Smooth, angular features. And blood. So much blood.

It was dried in crusty splotches all over my face, shoulders. Some had clotted in my hair. And of course, it was all over the dress.

I shrank back in horror from the sight.  _I really am a monster._

But the longer I looked, the more my stomach churned—which was a no go. So, with one last horrified glance, I tore my gaze away from my bloody, alien reflection. And tried to refocus my mind on the task at hand.

_I just need to get clean,_ I told myself, taking several calming deep breaths.  _I can worry about the rest later._

I padded quickly the rest of the way over to the large bathtub. Then paused to get undressed.

I wasn't really trying to be careful. But I was still surprised when I yanked so hard on the zipper on the back of my dress that the garment simply tore in half. I hadn't been expecting to hear a dramatic  _rrrrriiiiiiiip._ Or watch my dress fall in tatters to the floor.

But I would take it. As long as it was no longer touching me….

I hastily scratched off my panties next, shredding them as well. And I tried to be a little more careful as I worked off my bra, since it looked little more expensive. But it too, tore easily under my fingers.

I gritted my teeth in frustration. I was so ridiculously strong now—the underwire had snapped without a fuss. And I really had no clue how I was going to remove my clothes without destroying them in the future. Which was frustrating. Because I would want to wear that cozy grey sweater I'd seen earlier more than once.

I didn't really care about what I was wearing  _now._ I was too anxious to get clean. And I seriously doubted I would ever want to wear these bloodstained clothes ever again with what I had done in them.

The memories…

I shuddered as the man's pleading face resurfaced in my mind. And I remembered how coldheartedly I had gulped down his blood.

It had felt so good at the time. And in the midst of the blood-high, I had foolishly supposed that the pleasure would be more than enough to compensate for the more unsavory consequences of my actions. That it would feel so good I couldn't feel bad about it later.

Oh how wrong I had been…

I felt horrible now. Maybe not quite as bad as Carlisle had when he'd believed his salvation was forfeit. But the emotions wracking my body now were in a similar vein.

I shook an angry fist at myself for allowing this to get to me when I had told Edward so resolutely before that I wouldn't mind being a human-drinker. I felt like a hypocrite again. Which only added to my agony.

I tried to quell the pain with reassurances.

_It's okay, this will just take some getting used to_ , I told myself.  _You're just fine—nothing's changed except you're a vampire now, rather than human._

But it wasn't really working.

_It's no big deal._  I reasoned weakly, placing my hands defiantly on my bare hips in order to convince myself. _The Volturi kill people all the time. It's normal for them. So maybe someday it can be normal for me to. Maybe someday I'll look back on this and laugh._

That was definitely the wrong thought. I started to taste bile.

Eager to avoid disaster, I reached for the hardy, polished metal knobs atop the bathtub. But again, I was too strong. When I grabbed the knobs, I accidentally crumpled them in my hands.

I panicked when I saw the polished metal bend and flatten under my scarlet-stained fingers.  _No, no, no._ _I need this bath now_!

But thankfully the water turned on without a fuss, streaming steadily into the porcelain basin. Even though I had ruined the bathroom fixtures in the process.

_I hope Aro wasn't too attached to this bathtub, either…_ I thought bitterly. I was disgusted with myself for being so brutally strong. For destroying everything I had touched thus far.

_Though,_   _it's not like breaking the bathtub knobs is the end of the world…_  I started to think.

_But if I don't succeed in my mission, it might be the end of the world… at least, the vampire world…_ I recalled grimly.

I shook my head then, to clear my thoughts.

_I can worry about preventing extinction later, right now I just need to relax and get clean._

The bathtub filled quickly with hot water; steam rising in lazy, spiraling tendrils around my face. And once there was about a foot of water, I decided to test the heat before I filled the tub any more. After all, it wouldn't do to fill a whole tub with water that was too hot or cold to use.

Especially when I wasn't sure the taps would work again after this.

So, I dipped a hand into water….

….and immediately drew back in surprise.

It hadn't really sunk in yet that my body was at a drastically different temperature now. And so I was startled to discover that the level of warmth I had preferred as a human was now uncomfortably hot.

I was fairly certain that my new, marble-esque skin was resilient enough not to actually burn under these circumstances. But the hot water reminded me far too much of the hot blood that had poured down my throat and splashed over my body earlier today.

And that just wouldn't do.

So quickly—but carefully—I turned the crushed water valves to give me colder water. Until the bathwater was uncomfortably icy by human standards. But pleasantly perfect for me.

When the bath was filled, I turned off the water and carefully slipped in, sighing in relief as the warm water washed refreshingly over my tense muscles. And I laid my head back, trying to banish all thought and simply enjoy the water.

For several minutes I simply lied still, soaking in the sensation. I closed my eyes. And made every honest effort to relax.

But after a while futily trying to ignore the heavy scent of dried blood still fogging the air, I realized I was never going to be fully at ease. Not until I erased every last trace of the incriminating substance from my person.

Abruptly, I opened my eyes, and sought out something I could use to scrub away the blood still coating my skin. As my pristine vision, flickered around, I caught sight of a brand-new bar of vanilla-scented soap resting on the edge of the tub in a little ornate dish. And I reached for it automatically.

The soap, unlike everything else, didn't disintegrate underneath my fingers—which should have given me pause. But I was too focused on the task at hand to think rationally.

As soon as I grabbed the soap, I began scrubbing vigorously at the many splotches of blood caked onto my hands, shoulders and face. Hoping to erase all traces of my crimes. Like the Volturi had done before in the turret room, with their bleach-soaked mops.

I scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed. And I smiled with grim satisfaction as I watched the film of blood peel away from my skin easily. It flaked off me, like morbid confetti, and spotted the water with bits of dark crimson.

Had I been thinking, I would have thought it was odd that the soap wasn't flaking too. That little flecks of white weren't joining the red in the water below. I certainly was pressing hard enough on the soap to break it, had it been made of the usual ingredients. But I was too enraptured watching the peeled off bits of dried blood in the bath start to dissolve, and watching the once pristine bar of soap turn gradually redder, to notice.

I hadn't expected the blood diluting in the water to turn yellow—that never happened in Hollywood. It was always pink or red. But after a moment, I decided the color made sense, given Carlisle's research. After all, yellow was the color of blood stretched too thin. Blood that wasn't doing its job.

Blood that was wasted.

I grimaced at the thought. And unbidden, my first murder victim's petrified face flash before my eyes again—conjured by the word  _wasted._  And his pleas sounded again in my mind.

I was surprised at how clear the memory was. It wasn't some hazy amalgam of relevant details—a blurry, imperfect, reconstruction. Like Carlisle's and Aro's memories, it was a perfect recollection—like I was experiencing it all over again.

I could remember everything. The way the chalky sienna stones felt under my feet. The lovely way the human man had smelled. How grotesque his skin had appeared under the dimly flickering candlelight…

And most horrifically, I could remember his every plea for mercy. Word-for-word.

Most of them weren't sensible arguments—something I didn't fault him for. Adrenaline was the enemy of rational thought. And his body had been saturated with it long before he'd met me. Long before I'd tasted the bitter stain of it in his blood…

But I knew full well that his arguments—sensible or not—had been in vain. I knew how this memory ended. The evidence of  _that_  was still coating my skin…

I made a renewed effort then to try to wash away the man's death from my body. So maybe that way I wouldn't have to think about it any longer.

But of course, my unhelpful, super-brain had other plans. It seemed fixed on reviewing the events of my first feed in excruciating detail.

I winced as the man's pleading face faded back into pristine view. " _I don't care what you do to me, but please, just let me live!"_ he cried desperately.

I pursed my lips guiltily as the words vibrated in my ears. And rubbed at my skin harder.

_"Let me live!"_ I heard the man plea again " _I'll do anything. ANYTHING. Please…"_

The tiny lilt of hope in his voice was especially agonizing to remember. I growled at myself, furious that I had ignored his pleas earlier. That I hadn't been able to deliver the mercy he was expecting. And I scrubbed at my skin faster. Trying to banish the filthy feeling that seemed to saturate every cell of my unfamiliar body.

None of the Volturi in my memory showed even an ounce of sympathy for the human. And I hadn't really either. So as I watched, the frantic panic in his face gradually darkened into resignation.

_"Please…"_ I heard him choke out in a soft, wet whisper that was almost devoid of hope now, " _…just let me live."_

The human in my memories then began sobbing brokenly and struggling pitifully to escape. I suppose he must have figured out finally that words were going to get him nowhere. Though he stilled and quieted some when Caius shot a murderous glare in his direction.

The whole tub was now stained a pale yellow color. And my skin was finally purged, glistening porcelain again. But I hardly noticed. In fact, I continued my scrubbing at the same relentless speed and intensity.

I still didn't  _feel_ clean. No matter how quickly or vigorously I moved the soap clenched in a death-grip in my hands, the dirtiness I felt inside just wouldn't abate.

So I kept scrubbing. And scrubbing. And scrubbing.

There was a tense moment of silence, before the recollection rapidly turned violent. And my vision was sprayed over with thick, bright red.

I hated how much I could remember. That I could  _feel_ the man's blood splashing over my skin and pouring down my throat all over again. That I could still  _taste_  him. And  _hear_  his frenzied heartbeat kick into overdrive before it sputtered to a stop.

It was too much. Way too much. So in agony of heart, I cried out.

My melodic scream echoed brightly off the white tiled walls.

And at the same moment, Alice burst into the room without warning.

Immediately, the gory vision dissipated. And the sterile bathroom swirled clearly into focus.

Suddenly, I felt nothing but an overwhelming self-consciousness again. Remembering that I was naked, I scrambled to cover myself, sloshing up waves of soapy water as I did so.

But Alice didn't seem terribly concerned about my modesty at the moment. Instead her vibrant red eyes were affixed fearfully to my left shoulder. The same shoulder which I was still mindlessly scouring with the bloodstained soap bar. Even though the skin beneath it had long been washed clean.

Before I could figure out why that area of my body held interest to her, Alice darted forward. Snatched the begrimed soap bar out of my unprepared hand. And threw it vindictively in the trash can beside the sink, as though the instrument had deeply offended her.

But even more jarring than Alice's sudden hatred for soap, was the berating that followed.

"Bella, what are you doing!" she hissed angrily.

She seized my wet right arm and twisted it forcefully away from my body. Even in the absence of soap, it had still been rubbing irritably at my left shoulder. Something Alice saw as wrong.

Upset by the harsh, bodily handling that was going on, I was about to try to wrestle my arm away from her. But that's when I realized three things that made me stop.

The first was that I was stronger now. I could probably actually fight Alice if I really wanted to. And if Aro was right about the sheer level of strength I would possess as a newborn, then I would likely accidentally end up wiping the floor with her. Which, given that I didn't really want to hurt her or crack the back wall, was a bad idea.

The second was that a fight would likely drag me out of the bathtub. And I really had no desire to be so completely exposed right now.

And the third was that something caught my eye as I turned to look at my shoulder—as I turned to see what all the fuss was about. Something that was horribly jagged, red and faintly glistening.

At first, I had no idea what I was looking at. It looked like the inside of a geode, filled with lots of little sparkling crystals. But it was the wrong color—a vivid pinkish red like pinched cheeks. And there were definite groves carved into it. Like something very strong had cut bluntly back and forth across it many, many times.

Bewildered, I prodded it gently with a single finger, taking in the foreign, angular texture. And I was surprised to feel a jolt of pain traveling up my shoulder in direct response to my touch.

"Alice… what's on my shoulder?" I timidly asked.

Experimentally, I stroked the unfamiliar ridges again. And once again I was bewildered that I felt a distinct, raw sensory response. Like I was touching my own, rug-burned skin.

"Bella," Alice began hesitantly, with a hint of incredulity that I hadn't figured it out yet. "That  _is_ your shoulder," she revealed slowly.

Then she backed away gradually in order to give me room for her declaration to sink in.

I twisted fiercely to examine the surrounding area. And I was horrified to discover that, yes, what I had presumed to be some random collection of pinkish crystals growing on my shoulder was actually, in fact, the raw and jagged surface of my skin.

The smooth, outer layer had been mostly scratched away. A result of my overzealous effort to sanitize myself, I guess. But it looked a lot worse than that. Like I had taken a sheet of industrial-grade sandpaper to it.

So I shrieked again. Though this time in surprise rather than self-abhorrence.

"How?" I demanded, cradling the injury delicately. "I mean wouldn't the soap break before…?"

I really didn't see how it was possible for me to have hurt myself—my new, ludicrously impenetrable self—with a measly bar of soap.

With my own hands, sure. But with soap?

Alice sighed in exasperation before she knelt calmly beside the tub. She then fished the red-caked soap-bar in question out of the trash can. And hefted it above my head into the light.

I wasn't sure what Alice was doing. Until I saw that the soap bar was glittering dimly under the bright white lights. And not just any old glittering. It was refracting tiny rainbows through the blood.

Like my skin.

"Normal soap isn't hard enough to be very efficient when it comes to cleaning vampires," Alice explained educationally, still holding the soap aloft, "And we normally don't get that dirty, so it isn't that big of an issue. But I saw that you would want to get clean as soon as possible, if you did make a mess. So while you were transforming, Aro and I decided to craft a soap that was hard enough to work quickly."

I furrowed my brows. "A soap that would work quickly?" I wasn't sure what she meant by that.

Alice pouted. "We laced it with diamonds."

She added that last bit with a flippancy that suggested the Volturi just had a bunch of the rare rocks lying around. Which they probably did, come to think about it. They  _were_  preposterously wealthy.

"But I had no idea that you were going to try and take your skin off with it!" Alice finished.

Her voice was combination of emotions. Reproach for my stupidity. And self-directed anger for her lack of foresight.

"It's not like I decided to…" I weakly supplied.

I grimaced as I looked back over the jagged landscape of my shoulder, recalling how single-mindedly I had been trying to wash away the death I had just caused. Not once had I entertained the possibility that I might actually cause further damage with my ardent scrubbing.

But honestly, who would ever stop to think that maybe their soap was laced with diamonds and therefore dangerously coarse? That was a completely abnormal situation.

"I didn't know," I told Alice, to reassure her I hadn't carved up my shoulder on purpose. "How could I?"

"You're right, I should have told you," she conceded regretfully. "I'm sorry."

I didn't say anything after this. Not because I was mad at her. But because the situation was still altogether too ridiculous.  _Diamond-laced soap? What the hell?_

Realizing she wasn't going to get a coherent response out of me, Alice sighed and gently shook her head. Then extended a pale hand in my direction in invitation.

For a few moments I was still too stunned by everything that had happened since my awakening as a vampire to respond. And simply stared uncomprehendingly at the glistening appendage offered to me.

Alice seemed to erroneously believe that my hesitation was born from shame, rather than shock and post-traumatic-stress. So she hastily reiterated her apology.

"I'm really, really sorry, Bella. It's not your fault. You didn't know. But now you do. So don't do it again, okay?"

Alice's unsettling crimson eyes shone with true concern. And I couldn't argue with that. So I nodded, and reached for her hand.

As our hands collided, I was surprised by how  _warm_ hers was. I shouldn't have been. We were, after all, the same temperature now. But it was a strange sensation. Strange enough to distract me from my concerns about modesty as Alice helped haul me out of the tub, and wrapped me in the fluffy purple towel she'd given me earlier.

The individual fibers of the towel tickled my skin as she smothered me in it. But I was more focused on the gesture itself. A calm, thoughtful gesture that made me suspect Alice might genuinely care for me like a sister.

I was easy to believe otherwise. I had a pivotal role in the upcoming battle, after all. So it would make perfect sense for Alice to only see me as a pawn in her schemes. To use me to make sure that everything in everyone else's futures worked out.

But as Alice helped me with the next steps of getting clean, it looked like I was at least more than that. That Alice was trying her very best to balance my needs with the greater good.

It was a tough balance, I was sure. Some of the things I wanted—like not having to kill again—were directly at odds with what the world needed. And I was still highly wary of the idea of fully relying on her. Alice of the Volturi was in many ways a completely different person than Alice Cullen.

But I wanted to try to trust her. After all I would need a lot of help getting through these next few months. I didn't know my own strength yet. And I felt sick in my own skin.

I wanted to scratch it all away: peel back all the hard layers, and bring back the soft, vulnerable Bella I had once been. But I couldn't.

She was dead.

There was only me now—whoever that was.

I felt a bit sour about that as Alice shampooed my hair, then rinsed it in the sink to get rid of the blood clots. So I wasn't really paying attention while she conditioned it, rinsed it again, dried it with a blow dryer, and brushed my new, lustrous mahogany locks back into smooth, untangled waves. I was too busy hating myself. Hating the new me. Hating the alien in the mirror.

In fact, I was so busy doing this that I felt a bit like Alice's life-size, 3-D paper doll. When she was done in the bathroom, she hauled me back into the bedroom. We stopped by the vanity first, so Alice could work some artistic magic on my face with makeup. And then, she slipped me into some underwear, and helped me slide into some clean clothes—a puffy, filmy, long-sleeved white shirt, and tight, stretchy black pants—without ripping them.

When Alice was finished dressing me, she patted my shoulder. "There, all better."

Suddenly, I came to again. Jumping out of my self-loathing stupor, back into reality.

"Um, thanks…" I said a bit sheepishly.

"No problem," Alice chirped happily. "I'm glad to help."

There was an awkward minute of silence—a silence during which I guessed Alice was waiting for me to say something else. But my mind was everywhere and nowhere—swirling tempestuously with dark emotions and thoughts. And I still didn't really trust my churning stomach enough to open my mouth. So I didn't say anything.

"Do you need anything else?" Alice asked politely.

I stared at her blankly.

Alice seemed to take that as a no. So she set me down on the bed, and made to leave the room.

But, on impulse, I caught her hand before she could go and forced her back. I didn't want to be alone. Not now. I was sure that solitude would only make the creeping darkness inside me completely devour my consciousness. And I wasn't ready to face that yet.

" _Ow,"_ Alice said slowly as my fingers curled tightly around hers and pulled.

I let go of her immediately. I'd never meant to hurt her. It was still a little hard to remember that I  _could_.

"Sorry, I just… please stay…" I begged.

I looked to her with eyes like a lost puppy's. I had no direction now. Everything that had happened in the last three days had been leading up to this moment—my immortalization. And now that I had achieved it, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do next.

Alice shook out her hand, like she was trying to shake off the pain, and regarded me curiously. "What do you need?" she asked.

Her voice told me she would be happy to provide. Even if what I would be asking her to give me was something awful. Like a head on a platter.

And for some reason, that only made me feel worse. I swallowed, and looked at my feet—feet that were now encased in silky socks, and short, stylish leather boots.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," I admitted with an embarrassed shrug.

"Well, what do you want to do?" Alice asked brightly.

_What did I want to do? So I had a choice?_ The idea was as tantalizing as it was preposterous.

"Can I see Charlie?"

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them—I really would have to work on that. And as soon as they reached Alice's pale ears, she flinched.

"I really don't think that would be a good idea," she told me in slow, soothing tones. "Even if I could sneak you out of here to do that—which would be difficult to pull off without being followed—it wouldn't be safe."

I nodded in solemn understanding. "You're worried that I might get myself hurt."

I could see why she couldn't let that happen. I was too valuable to lose, after all.

Alice, clearly puzzled by my reasoning, looked at me like I was being stupid on purpose. "No…. not  _you_ ," she emphasized. "You're almost indestructible now. I'm worried about  _Charlie_."

Now it was my turn to be confused. "Why would he be in danger?"

"You're a newborn, remember?" Alice said a little impatiently. "And he's… human, so…"

Alice didn't have to finish that sentence. And when the pieces clicked together a fraction of a second later in my new and improved brain I was glad she didn't.

Charlie was human. Just like the man I had killed. He would  _smell_  like the man I had killed. Like blood. Like  _food._

I would want to drink his blood.

In fact, I might not be able to stop myself.

I shivered as that reality filtered in. It was an awful thing to consider, that I might accidentally kill my father. That my instincts really were that powerful. And that cruel.

But if I was being perfectly honest with myself, even if that hadn't been an issue—even if I was sure I could be in perfect control, sure that I wouldn't rip into his throat—I still couldn't see Charlie. At least not right away.

He wouldn't recognize me, for one. I was an alien creature now. My eyes, vibrant crimson instead of dark brown. My voice, a sound like the peeling of bells. My face, a perfect marble sculpture.

And what could I possibly say to him to explain that? How could I even begin?

_Hi Dad. You might notice I'm a bit different now. I can't really say why. And I can't tell you what I'm doing, or why I'm going to be halfway across the world, other than that it's very important. But I'm okay. You don't need to worry._

I shook my head to banish the ridiculous thought. Charlie would never accept such a stupid explanation. He was a  _cop_ for Pete's sake! And all of sudden I felt furtively glad that I had some excuses for putting things off for a while. Because as much as I wanted to find some way to keep Charlie in my life, I was terrified of that first meeting.

I hated the idea of seeing his eyes pop as he took in my new face, my new skin. I hated knowing that he would be frightened. And hated wondering what dark explanation would form in his head.

_Would he guess the truth? Or at least the important part of it—that I was a monster?_

I shuddered again, and tried to refocus on the a vampire, my senses were all so powerful that it was very easy to caught up in various tangents. To be enraptured by an errant thought, a sudden whiff, the slightest sound, an interesting sight…

Like the intricate patterns of drywall on the ceiling.  _Had those always been there?_

And here I was at it again.

I forced myself to blink twice to clear my head—I wasn't sure why, but the little  _plip-plip_  of my eyelids coming together helped. And focused my crimson gaze on Alice again.

"You're right. I can't see him," I told her resolutely.  _At least not yet._

I was chicken enough to wait. And here I'd thought I would be so fearless when I was indestructible.

"I'm sorry Bella," Alice said sympathetically. And I wasn't sure how, but somehow I knew  _this_ time she wasn't lying about that. She really was sorry. Whatever that was worth.

And I was sorry too. Though, for different reasons entirely.

…

Alice stayed with me, sitting on the large, purple bed beside me, for the rest of the night. We didn't talk much. Or do much. But her company was helpful all the same. A necessary tether. An anchor to keep me from drifting off into the dark, churning waves of depression.

As the hours slipped by, she occasionally gave me a sisterly pat on the shoulder, or hugged me when it looked like I was going to cry. I thought it was weird that I never got tired or sleepy. That I stayed fully alert the whole time. That I couldn't sleep ever again, even if I wanted to.

A part of me was glad about that. Sleep tonight—had it been possible—would have inevitably been plagued with nightmares.

But another part of me was upset. Although they weren't always nice, I'd liked having dreams. And it was another thing to add to my increasing pile of injustices that I couldn't have another one ever again.

I sighed sadly when the sun finally started to rise. There were no windows in my room to let the pale yellow rays filter in. But somehow I could feel its heat beating against the outside stones—a faint warmth. And I felt miserable all over again as I remembered that sunlight was another thing I could no longer enjoy.

I was just like Edward now. I couldn't stand in the middle of the street during the day anymore.

At least, not if I wanted to live.

Which was frighteningly debatable at the moment.

On the one hand, I still felt strongly that I had made the right choice. I didn't exactly  _regret_  choosing immortality, or choosing to join the Volturi. It was the best option I had been given. The only option, really, given that the other two spelt either my death, or the death of every vampire in the world.

But on the other hand, becoming immortal and joining the Volturi had unpleasant consequences. Consequences I had been made fully aware of before I'd been changed. Consequences I had resolved to be okay with, given the much less pleasant alternatives. Consequences I still did not believe overshadowed the benefits. But still, deeply disturbing consequences, nonetheless.

Becoming a murderer, no matter how you sliced it, was  _awful._

And it would probably take me a while before I came to grips with it. A while during which I would have to fight really hard to stave off my creeping depression.

"Alice?" I asked tentatively, as the sun began to beat hotter against the outside walls.

Alice looked at me with a mixture of interest and concern. "Yes, Bella?"

"How long did it take you to…?" I struggled to find the right words. "… _adjust_ to being a killer?"

I half-expected Alice to recoil in horror at my question. I'd kept my tone casual—somehow. And that wasn't exactly the way people were supposed to talk about topics like  _murder._

But Alice didn't look the least bit startled at all. She pursed her lips in thought, like I'd asked her any other question. Then she said:

"Well, I  _do_ remember being a little disturbed after my first meal. Very few creatures have prey that look so much like them, after all," she contributed, academically. "But, I don't think that uneasiness lasted for more than an hour."

I balked at this news. "An _hour_?"

I felt like I'd been impaled with a metal pike. It'd been almost twelve hours now since my first meal, and the guilt and shame burning in my heart showed no signs of dissipating. Which made me feel totally pathetic.

Alice, seeing my devastated expression, rushed to my rescue. "Oh Bella, don't compare yourself to me," she pleaded. "I don't even remember being human. So, of course, it was easy."

I blinked to clear my head as that knowledge sunk in. Alice was right. No one really knew why, but when she'd awoken as a vampire, she had no human memories. Her first recollection was of the venom blistering through her veins. And the visions of the future that spanned out in her mind as it was immortalized.

I felt a little better knowing that. After all, I imagined it  _would_ be easy to come to terms with human slaughter when you had no memory of being human yourself. No memory of being the very thing you were now supposed to eat….

"Comparing yourself to me is almost as bad as comparing yourself to Aro's twins," Alice said in an exasperated tone.

"What's so bad about that?"

"They were raised as vampires, Bella. So neither of them have ever experienced what it's like to be human either. But even more than that, they were never taught to value humanity the same way you were," she told me.

I nodded. That made sense.

"Aro of course taught them to respect it, in his own, odd way," Alice contributed next. "But they didn't have it drilled into them from a young age that killing was wrong, like you did. In fact, they've only been told it's natural. So they've never felt any guilt over taking human life."

I felt something rotten creeping over my skin at this revelation. It made perfect sense—of course someone with murderous instincts and no one to condemn them wouldn't see anything wrong with routine slaughter. But it was still chilling to think about. That those adorable, perfect children had never felt even a hair of remorse for their victims.

I shook myself to get rid of the thought.

"Okay, so how long does it usually take?" I decided was the next question to ask. "For vampires who are turned, rather than born?"

Alice sighed. "I'm not sure there is a 'usual' in this circumstance, Bella," she admitted. "There's so many variables…."

Alice was obviously trying to dissuade this line of thinking. She didn't want me comparing myself to any other vampires in this regard. But I couldn't help my curiosity. I needed to know where I fit in.

"Do you know how long it took any of the others?" I asked. "Was your adjustment the shortest? Or did someone else beat you? Caius maybe?"

If there was anyone in the Volturi I suspected could manage to go from human to vampire and start killing without remorse right away, it was him. The way he hunted… I shivered just thinking about it.

Deciding I wasn't going to let it go until I got some satisfactory answers, Alice obliged. "Well, if you're going to insist on ranking us, I  _am_ the first. But Caius does come in second place."

I stiffened where I sat on the bed. " _Second_ place? Meaning…"

"He was upset for a few hours after his first kill," Alice clarified. "No more than three. And I doubt he's felt a shred of remorse since. But that's more than my one."

_Three hours?_ I was having a hard time imagining the ancient icy vampire mourning the loss of human life at all. Let alone for three whole hours.

"He's not  _entirely_ without empathy, you know," Alice felt it was necessary to say in Caius' defense. "He really does care about his mate. And Aro's like a brother to him, even if he has a weird way of showing it."

_A weird way, indeed._

I thought back on all the interactions between the powerful pair I'd seen in the turret room. They seemed too caustic to be amiable. But maybe that was what Alice meant. Maybe the two were vitriolic best buds.

"Jane is third," Alice interrupted my thoughts to point out. "Though, she's practically tied with Caius. Three and half hours, I think. She was  _really angry_ about it though. But once she figured out she could make people crumple to the floor in pain with just one look… well, that brightened her mood."

I winced.  _Jane was_ _ **happy**_ _she could make others hurt?_

"That sounds, really sadistic."

Alice bobbed her head enthusiastically. "Though, I can't say I blame Jane  _too much_  for getting a kick out of hurting humans. Her whole village tried to burn her for being a witch, Bella. They'd noticed she was different—that she could make people feel an itch or pinch with her mind. And it was only Aro's last minute intervention that saved her and her brother Alec."

I swore I could feel the flush of human blood in my cheeks draining.  _Jane had gone through_ _ **that?**_ _Her last human memory was of her whole village betraying her?_ I felt a stab of empathy for the girl, despite everything.  _How awful._

"You think her past justifies her hate?" I asked.

I knew what the old Alice would say. But I was curious to know what Alice of the Volturi, rather than Alice Cullen, really believed.

Alice fiercely shook her head. "It  _explains_ it. But I wouldn't say it justifies it." She shivered.

For some reason that made me feel a lot better. If  _Alice_ , who had no problem with human death herself, thought Jane was over-the-top…. Well, maybe I wasn't so pathetic after all.

"Do you think she's worse than Caius?" I asked curiously.

"Oh much worse," Alice easily agreed. "Of course, I'm pretty biased. She and I don't exactly get along. She wants to be Aro's  _favorite_. And she thinks I'm  _competition._ "

Alice looked a little confused—as though she couldn't quite understand Jane's jealousy, when Jane already had a power she saw as more impressive than her own.

But I could see why the little sadist might see Alice as a rival. The way Aro's eyes lit up when he saw Alice… I was pretty sure his admiration for her was unparalleled.

"Who's next?" I prompted, not wanting to get too far off on a tangent.

Alice's response was automatic. "Heidi. Took her two days."

Initially, I felt a wave of shock. Two days was  _quite_  a jump away from a handful of hours.

Then, I exhaled in relief. If two days was in third place, out of more than thirty vampires, then I had a much better shot at not being an embarrassing outlier than I had thought.

"Chelsea's next. Took her a week," Alice explained. "Then most of the rest of the guard—Alec, Afton, Demetri, Felix, Sulpicia, Corin, Renata, Marcus and most of the more transitory members—they all took a month or two, until their second or third kill to really get comfortable with taking human lives."

I couldn't help my astonishment. "A month or two?"

Alice made a non-committal gesture. "I guess, if anything is 'typical' it's that."

I felt my stomach sink.  _It usually takes that long?_  That wasn't exactly the most comforting thing to hear.  _I'm most likely to suffer for a whole month? Or two?_

Then another thought occurred to me—the annoying reminder that I rarely followed "typical" patterns. And I frowned.

"Did any of them take longer than that?" I wondered. Because it would be just my luck to outlast everyone else in the misery department.

Alice, to my disappointment, nodded. "Athenodora, Didyme and Renata did," she told me. "I guess they were all sweethearts before they were bitten, so it took them more like six months. And as you saw, Didyme still had some lingering doubts…."

I nodded back. I remembered that part.  _Poor Didyme._

"Then there's the more atypical cases of Carmen and Eleazar," Alice added.

This piqued my interest. "Atypical how?"

"They never really adjusted. Killing  _really_ bothered them when they were first turned," she stressed. "And then, just a few months later,  _Carlisle_ came along and introduced the toxic hope that they might not have to kill humans."

I was surprised at the dark note I heard in Alice's voice when she mentioned Carlisle's name. I mean, I knew now that she didn't agree with his lifestyle—that all her apparent dedication to it had been a ruse to recruit Edward and I. But it was still jarring to hear her speak of him with such contempt. I was used to hearing nothing but good about the doctor. So her acerbic tone caught me off guard.

"And well, eventually the ' _allure_ ' of ' _vegetarianism'—_ " Alice said these words with the same poison on her tongue,  _"—_ prompted Carmen and Eleazar to leave the Volturi and join the vegetarian coven in Denali."

My mouth hung open after hearing that last bit. "They're with the Denali coven, now?"

The Denali coven was the other coven like Carlisle's—the other group of vampires who drank animal blood instead of human. The coven Edward had stayed with for a week after our first meeting in biology class.

I hadn't met them yet. Though I had known before that there were three blonde women as part of their group. Tanya, the strawberry blonde Edward had politely turned down before he'd met me. Irina, who had developed a relationship with Laurent when he went to stay with them. And Kate, whom I knew basically nothing about.

But I hadn't known that Carmen and Eleazar were with them.

"Even after the experiment?"

This was the part I found hardest to believe. Carmen had been part of Carlisle's failed experiment to prove the sustainability of animal blood. And her mate Eleazar had been watching. So how could they—when the results of those three months had been so awful—justify switching to animal blood later in life?

"Yup," Alice confirmed. "I guess, since neither of them have physical powers, they decided it was a worthwhile risk. Still, Aro's pretty mad about it."

With what I now knew, I could easily see why. For Aro to lose more valuable members of his organization to such an unhealthy,  _dangerous_  lifestyle…. Well, that had to be upsetting.

I pondered this for a moment. Then an epiphany struck me.

"You haven't mentioned Aro yet," I pointed out. "Do you know how long it took him?"

Alice took a deep breath—an unnecessary gesture that put me on the edge of my seat. Then she replied, "He took the longest."

I gasped. "He comes in  _last_?"

"Shocking, isn't it?" Alice asked.

I nodded. Though  _shock_ didn't even begin to describe how I felt.

"How long?"

"Well, he spent almost all of his first year in utter despair. Then during the next few years he was half-accepting. Sometimes he'd kill and be fine with it. And other times it would hurt him real deep," she explained, a genuinely pained look crossing her face as she related his story.

"But he eventually came to grips with it?" I prompted.

I couldn't believe anything less. Modern Aro wasn't the least bit upset about the idea of humans dying. Maybe the execution itself was sometimes a little harrowing. But the concept? Not in the slightest.

"Eventually, yes," Alice agreed. "I mean, as you probably noticed,  _now_ on the rare occasion it bothers him at all, he's only troubled for a few seconds in the midst of a kill."

I nodded. I had seen that.

"But that took a while," she told me in a small, sad voice. "He only fully became comfortable causing human deaths when he transformed his late sister, Didyme, a whole decade after his transformation."

"A whole  _decade_ …?" I murmured in horror.

Alice shrugged, like it was no big deal. "Well, knowing the pain he feels through his gift—knowing that he sees the lives of all his victims flash before his eyes as he kills them—is it really a surprise?"

I flinched. "I guess you have a point," I conceded. That was, after all, something I'd thought myself. "Still, I would have never pegged him for taking the longest…"

"Of the Volturi, at least," Alice felt the need to clarify.

My perfect dark eyebrows rose sharply on my forehead. "There's someone else who's taken longer?"

Alice snorted at my ignorance. "I thought that would have been obvious," she said with such heavy incredulity that I was almost offended. "He's still outshone by Carlisle on that front. I mean, Carlisle's  _still_ not over it."

I grimaced. Alice was right.

And I doubted, given what I had seen, that Carlisle ever would be "over it." Human death was complete anathema to him.

So much so, that he either hadn't ever done it.

Or if he ever had—and there was some ambiguity on that front in the intervening centuries between his stay with the Volturi, and his transformation of Edward—he had forced himself to forget.

"To this day Carlisle _still_  fights the integral part of himself that craves human blood, instead of embracing it."

Alice sighed, like Carlisle was an irritatingly stubborn child.

I nodded, taking this all in.

Based on what Alice had told me, it seemed vampires typically adjusted to their new identities as killers somewhere between a few weeks and a year. With one-to-two months being the most typical.

Any less than a week was uncanny, and seemed to be correlated with a massive degree of cruelty. Jane and Caius were both terrifying sadists. And even Heidi—clocking in with  _two days_  of remorse rather than mere hours—had been a horror to behold, using every ounce of her charm to tantalize her prey to their deaths.

Alice, it seemed, was the only exception to this rule. Though seeing her feed had been undeniably scary, (what vampire wasn't mortifying to witness in that, their most predatory of states?) she didn't seem interested in manipulating or torturing her victims. And I supposed that was probably because her easy adjustment was more the result of apathy than anger. She didn't  _hate_ humans. She just didn't empathize with them at all because she couldn't ever remember being one.

So I was a little glad that my angst over my first meal was lasting this long, painful as it was. Because I had no desire to end up like any of those four in that regard. Although it was undeniably more painful this way, I still wanted to feel  _something._ But I was also worried that my grief might last  _too_  long.

Angst over human death for any more than a year seemed to indicate that the issue was unlikely to ever be permanently resolved. As was certainly the case with Carmen and Eleazar. Possibly Aro (though he coped very well). And most definitely Carlisle.

I looked down at my stylish leather boots again. And felt a rush of anxiety.  _Could I really aim for that happy medium? Could I even dare to hope that I would only suffer for a month or two, and then go on for the rest of eternity untroubled by the carnage I caused?_

_Was it even right to want that in the first place?_

I didn't know that yet. I didn't know a lot of things still, it seemed.

But as Alice reached over, and gave one of my alien hands a warm, gentle squeeze, I knew that at the very least I wouldn't have to face it all alone. That someone would be at my side the whole time. Helping me adjust to my new life. My new roles: vampire, Volturi, killer, and—if everything worked out as Alice predicted—savior of the vampire race.

As the sun continued to rise outside this room, I fought the urge to burst into hysterical laughter. The idea was still completely silly to me.

_Bella Swan, klutz extraordinaire and protector of vampires everywhere._

But if Alice believed it, then I was going to believe it too. After all, it was stupid to bet against Alice.

**END OF PART 1**


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